Of Steel and Chakra
by Ian Hycrest
Summary: After an unexpected attack during a routine mission, Tenten finds herself stranded in a frozen wasteland. Determined to find her way home, she travels south, finding refuge with the Starks of Winterfell. She decides to stay and await rescue there, but when her new friends are threatened by the political scheming of the South, Tenten's not just going to stand idly by...
1. Chapter 1: Lost

_Disclaimer: I own nothing_

* * *

Of Steel and Chakra

Chapter 1: Lost

The sun was barely visible over the mountains when she awoke. Glancing around, Tenten was unsurprised to see that she was the last one awake. Neji had taken the last watch, so he was up, of course. Lee and Gai-sensei were engaged in some ridiculous form of training involving three large rocks, a long branch, and a duck that they had procured from somewhere. It was far too early to try to make sense of the spandex-clad duo's antics.

Stretching as she walked over to the small campfire, she sat next to Neji. "Good morning, Neji," she said brightly.

"Good morning, Tenten," came the almost monotone reply. She suppressed a sigh. Ever since his fight with Naruto, Neji had been getting a little bit better about showing emotion and ignoring all that fate crap he had been so obsessed with, but he'd been backsliding a bit lately. Not too surprising, given that this had been a long deployment guarding the border, and the whole team was anxious to get home. It was still irritating, however.

After a quick breakfast, they resumed their journey, dashing through the fields at a pace that only a ninja could maintain, leaping from branch to branch on those few times when their path strayed into the woods. They were making good time, and if they kept going at this speed, they should be back in Konoha within a day or two. Unfortunately, that was not to be their fate, as Neji might say.

"Tenten, look out!" the pale-eyed boy shouted, and, not bothering to look around to see what the threat was, she obeyed the order instantly, leaping up and off to the left. She could feel the heat from an explosion on her back, the wind pushing her forward. She managed to turn the awkward landing into a smooth roll, coming up with a kunai in each hand as she looked around for the unexpected assailant.

There were at least a dozen of them, but she didn't have time to do a precise count. Though their ambush had failed, that didn't deter the attackers in the least as they rushed forward, weapons already drawn. In the back of her mind Tenten noted that those weapons were of excellent quality and kept in very good condition, hardly matching the rough appearance of the men wielding them. Except for the blades, they looked just like stereotypical bandits. But having such good steel told a different story, not to mention the boldness to directly attack a band of leaf-nin. Probably trained ninja from one of the enemy villages, pretending to be bandits for just such an occasion as this.

Two of the attackers converged on her, spreading out to come at her from both sides. Tenten suppressed a small grin as she re-holstered the kunai and instead grabbed a three-segmented staff called a sansetsukon. Though it was at times slightly irritating, it was also very advantageous that many people underestimated her because she was just a girl. Such a basic maneuver suggested her enemies had made the same mistake as so many others. And that mistake would cost them.

Tenten was not considered Konoha's rising weapons mistress for nothing. Her skill with almost any weapon was unparalleled by anyone near her age. But, of course, her particular emphasis was thrown weapons. Except for one particularly embarrassing fight with a certain wind user from Suna (that she really didn't like to think about) she never missed. And her enemies would get to see her skills in that area firsthand.

She leaped to the right, bringing her staff up in one smooth move to parry a downward slash, pushing the oncoming blade to the side, then pivoted to sweep the man's feet out from under him. As she had half expected, the man jumped up and back, disengaging just long enough to provide Tenten with a brief window of opportunity, which she made the most of.

Spinning as she grabbed a kunai in her right hand, she threw almost without looking, locating her target mostly by sound. The fact that the throw was almost blind didn't matter. After so many years of practice, she could hit anything no matter how much she spun and dodged. And, as she had expected, her aim was dead-on.

The burly man who had been coming up behind her fell to his knees, his face an almost amusing mix of confusion and shock as he brought his hands up to his throat, where the handle of the kunai was barely visible, having sunk deep into the flesh given the incredible force of Tenten's throws. The fact that she always kept her weapons razor sharp helped as well. The light then faded from the man's eyes, and he slumped over to one side, motionless.

Tenten wasn't paying any more attention to the fallen man, however. He wasn't the first she had killed, and he wouldn't be the last. She spun just in time to see her other attacker leap at her, clearly taking the fight more seriously now that he knew she wasn't the weakling he had expected. It didn't matter. She would win.

The fight was brief, just as she expected. He swung the large sword horizontally, the tip of the blade at about the same height as her waist. It was an attack that would be difficult for most people to dodge, too low to go under, but still too high to jump without using chakra. Unfortunately, that difficulty didn't really apply to someone who regularly sparred with Lee and Gai-sensei. Compared to the incredible speed of their attacks, the man was moving like molasses, which gave Tenten plenty of time to react. Where most people would probably jump backward to avoid the blade, she did the opposite, rushing forward in a dive that turned to a roll underneath the sword. She left the sansetsukon on the ground, instead snatching a kunai as she pulled out of the roll and stood up. She was nearly nose-to-nose with the man when her small blade entered his stomach. She could see the pain in his eyes, but that didn't stop her. Pulling the blade up and out of the man's guts, she struck once more, this time in the heart.

Her attacker let out a small whimper, then fell.

Tenten glanced around, unsurprised to see that her teammates had been just as successful with their opponents as she had been.

"Neji, are there any others?" her sensei asked, no hint of his usual levity present.

Veins bulged around the long-haired boy's eyes as he activated his byakugan. "No, that was the last of…" he cut off that thought, instead frantically crying, "Get away from the bodies!"

Tenten was moving almost instantly, but it wasn't enough. She could feel an explosion of chakra emanating from the corpse at her feet. A rush of wind hit her, burning hot against her skin, and then a wave of cold. She landed roughly, surprised that she hadn't landed on dirt as she had expected, but rather on… snow? She had no time to ponder this mystery. The world around her spun and whirled, coming in and out of focus before the blackness that had been gathering at the edge of her vision overtook her, and she lost consciousness.

* * *

As the world came into focus, Tenten noticed two things. First, she was sore. Not just a little sore, as one might be after a day of trying to keep up with the torture that Gai-sensei called training. But truly sore. As in, every muscle felt like it had been worked to the point of uselessness. Even blinking seemed to be a chore. But, perhaps the more concerning thing was that she was cold. Freezing cold. She was shivering uncontrollably, which certainly wasn't helping the 'sore' situation. Ignoring her body's pained protests, she forced herself to her feet, trying to still her chattering teeth as she studied her surroundings.

Obviously, she had been, somehow, transported somewhere else. The unending expanse of snow made that very clear. It also made her situation much more concerning. She had no supplies but a few kunai and shuriken. And in this frozen wasteland, it didn't look like she would be finding any help any time soon. The sun was barely visible over the far distant mountains. She just hoped that it was rising, and not setting.

Her clothes were wet from lying in the snow, though even if they had been dry, the thin fabric, chosen for comfort in the temperate Land of Fire, offered little protection from the harsh, biting wind. She could feel her body temperature dropping. While she'd never been on a mission to the far north before, she knew the dangers of hypothermia. While forcing herself to stay active would help, it wouldn't be enough, especially once night fell. She needed shelter, and she needed fire.

Fortunately, despite her youth and inexperience with such a situation, Tenten was a ninja. A true kunoichi, not like those ridiculous fangirls who were more concerned with keeping their skin soft and their luxurious hair perfectly styled. A little bit of snow was not going to be the death of her. At least, that's what she kept telling herself.

Reaching down, she grabbed a handful of snow, squeezing it in her hand. She was relieved to see that it compressed well enough. Hopefully, that would mean that she could build some sort of snow fort. She'd never actually done so, but she understood the basic theory.

The bigger issue was finding wood for a fire. In the distance she could see what looked like a small clump of trees, and she began to make her way over there, going quickly to keep herself warm, but not so fast that she began to sweat. Her clothes were wet enough already. No need to add to the problem.

The snow was deep, but using the sand-walking technique that she had learned during a mission to Suna shortly after the invasion helped keep her from sinking too far. In about five minutes, she was standing in the small grove of evergreen trees, now feeling much more optimistic about her situation.

There was very little deadfall on the ground, but that wasn't a problem. She gathered what there was, then began breaking branches off the trees. The wood wouldn't burn very well, but it would be better than nothing. Unfortunately, even chakra enhanced strength had its limits, so she was limited to the smaller branches, being unable to break the thicker limbs and unwilling to risk damaging her kunai trying to cut them. Without a serrated edge, it would probably be an exercise in futility, anyway.

She glanced at the sun, noting with some surprise that it hadn't risen nearly as much as she had expected. It had only been about an hour, but surely it should have moved more than that. Her heart sunk as she realized another possibility.

Basic geography was a requirement for any shinobi, and Tenten had always striven to be competent in all areas of ninja life. The Elemental Nations were, for the most part, quite moderate in temperature. In fact, the only places where one could find snow like this were in the far reaches of Lightning and Earth countries, or the aptly named Snow country. And if she had somehow been transported that far north, it explained why the sun hadn't risen much. She was so far north that, due to the curved surface of the earth, the sun never got as far above the horizon as she was used to. She had heard that there were even some places far to the north were the sun was completely blocked for weeks, or even months at a time. With luck, her situation wouldn't be that bad, but if she really was far to the north, it would make getting back to Konoha much more difficult. Kumo and Iwa weren't on the best terms with Konoha, after all.

Though, if she really was in Snow country, that might be to her advantage, she realized. Gai-sensei had mentioned that his eternal rival had recently returned from an unusual mission there. From what she understood, Team 7 had accumulated quite a bit of good will with the local government. If that really was the case, then they would probably be willing to help a lone kunoichi get home.

Of course, she would first have to find her way to a nearby settlement. And that meant she needed to survive the night. Breakfast that morning had been quick, but filling, as was the norm among the ninja forces. It wouldn't be pleasant, but she could survive for a few days without food. More than that would be problematic, but the low temperature was the more pressing issue.

The trees around her provided some protection from the wind, but it wouldn't be enough for the whole night. She'd need a more solid shelter. Glancing at the snow around her, she sighed and got to work.

She'd never constructed a snow fort before, and her inexperience showed. It was a learning process, and several times she was forced to repeat her efforts when the walls proved to be inadequate to support the ceiling. Finally, however, she had a small cave that she could fit inside. It wasn't even tall enough for her to sit up in, but with a little effort, she was able to level out the floor enough that lying down wasn't too uncomfortable.

She piled the wood she had gathered near the entrance, then, with a few handsigns, exhaled a small stream of fire that set the wood ablaze. Her teacher at the academy had recommended the Firestarter jutsu as one of a small number that, while not useful for combat, made traveling much more convenient. She had never been so grateful that she had taken the time to learn it.

Many of the branches that she had broken off still had the needles. She could burn them, she knew, but it wouldn't provide much heat, and she had another use for them in mind. Gathering the green needles, she spread them over the floor of her little snow cave, hoping that they would provide a little protection from the snow. It wouldn't be much, but every little bit would help, despite how uncomfortable it would no doubt be.

Removing her clothes, and placing them closer to the fire to dry, she climbed into her cave. The entrance opened into the small thicket of trees, which helped to guard against the howling wind. The fire burned warmly as Tenten looked out where darkness was now falling. She had never imagined that she would find herself in such a predicament. But she was a kunoichi of Konoha. The Will of Fire burned brightly within her. And if anything could carry her through this icy hell, that would.

* * *

When she awoke the next morning, the bitter feeling of cold over her entire body was enough to convince her that the events of the previous day had not been a nightmare as she had hoped. Opening her eyes, she found herself greeted by the same frozen scenery from before. Ignoring the despair that she felt, she forced herself to get up, brushing a few clinging pine needles off her clothes as she exited the cave and stood.

Gathering more wood didn't take long, and soon the blaze was once more burning cheerfully, filling her small shelter with much needed warmth. As the feeling returned to her extremities and she stopped shivering, she turned her thoughts to other matters.

Water wouldn't be an issue here. There was plenty of snow she could eat. Of course, doing so would drastically lower her body temperature, but so long as she kept moving, that wouldn't be a problem. Food would be a bigger concern. While she could make a fire easily enough, she had nothing to cook with, nor any sign of wildlife to hunt. There didn't even seem to be any berries or nuts that she could gather. Obviously, staying here was a death sentence. A painful, agonizing death as she slowly starved. Which left her with only one option.

Without any idea of what settlements may be nearby, if there even were any, her best bet was to travel south. Using chakra, she could travel quickly, and the further south she went, the more likely she was to find people. And the longer she delayed, the worse her situation would be.

With a sigh, she turned to look in the direction she thought was south. It was difficult to tell without a compass, but if she traveled towards the mountains where the sun had reached its peak the previous day, that would at least give her a landmark to navigate by, rather than getting turned around in the never-ending snowfield.

Glancing wistfully once more at the snow cave and still-burning fire, she set off at a quick jog.

* * *

Arya Stark was quite proud of herself. She normally wasn't much of a climber, usually leaving that to Bran. But with just a little bit of effort, she had managed to wriggle her way up and out through a small opening in one of the towers and position herself on a surprisingly comfortable ledge that was out of sight from most of Winterfell. Unless Mother or the Septa decided to walk along the walls in search of her, they would never figure out where she was. Even the guards passing every so often on their rounds down below were unlikely to see her, given that their attention was focused on discovering threats outside Winterfell, not mischievous girls lurking above and behind them.

From her hidden vantage point, Arya was able to look out over the winter town that spread out from the main gate. It was mostly deserted, given that it was still summer, and the people were out working the fields, but here and there movement could be seen.

In some ways, she envied the people out there. Sure, their lives may be more difficult, but they were free. They didn't have to spend all their time on stupid needlework, or learning to dance, or sing, or any of the other stupid things that stupid Sansa and the stupid Septa thought were so important. Mother always said that she should be more grateful for what she had, but it was difficult when she felt so trapped. Nobody understood her, except for maybe Jon, but given how much her mother hated him, he wasn't in any position to help.

She took a deep breath, and let out a sigh. Mother often did that when she was frustrated. It didn't really help, but Arya did it again anyway.

As usual, the lesson with Septa Mordane that morning had been a complete waste of time. Sansa was always so perfect at everything, and there was only so much 'Arya, why can't you be more like your sister' that she could take before it all got to be too much. Which is why she was out here, enjoying the solitude that could only be found on a small stone ledge high above the ground.

Even though her father was highly respected here in the north, the smallfolk usually kept to themselves rather than getting involved in the affairs of the nobility if they could help it. As such, not many people passed through the gate, and those that did were familiar faces around these parts. So when the guards gathered around a single person who had walked boldly right up to the gate, Arya's curiosity was piqued. And when that person removed the hood they were wearing to reveal a pretty girl only a few years older than Arya herself, with her hair pulled back into buns on the top of her head that almost made her look like a mouse, Arya knew that she had to meet this strange new person.

Unfortunately, that proved more difficult than she had thought. While getting to the ledge had been relatively simple, climbing up to the opening that led back into the tower was more complicated.

* * *

Eddard Stark strode quickly through the castle, Jory Cassel at his heels. Even during the summer, he was a busy man, so normally, he wouldn't be leaving his solar to greet a single, unknown guest. But according to Jory, there was enough… oddity around this newcomer that the Lord of Winterfell felt it wise to see her in person.

"And she hasn't said anything?" he asked.

"No. She might be a mute," the guard responded. "She's not deaf, though. She certainly can hear us, but she doesn't give any indication that she understands what we're saying."

Ned pondered this for a moment. While it was rare for someone in Westeros not to speak the common tongue, it wasn't completely unheard of. Of course, if she didn't speak common, the most likely reason was because she was a wildling, many of whom still spoke the old tongue. Still, it seemed unlikely that the guards would be so caught off guard by a wildling.

"Go find Luwin. If she speaks another language, he may be able to help," he ordered as he turned the corner toward the exit into the main courtyard.

Jory nodded, and trotted off down the hall.

Ned continued to walk briskly across the courtyard, slowing as a small group of guards came into view, obviously watching the newcomer closely, though none of them had actually drawn their swords yet.

He suppressed a small sigh of fond amusement as the door to one of the towers off to the side swung open and his younger daughter rushed out, her clothes a dirty ruin and her hair a mess that would likely have Cat near tears. Apparently, she had once more decided that adventure was preferable to her regular lessons. A part of him knew that he should be more strict with her, but whenever he tried, the sorrow and despair on that angelic little face, so like Lyanna's, was too much for him to ignore. Like his sister had been, Arya was a free spirit, a wild daughter of the north that could not be tamed.

Pushing these thoughts aside, he turned his focus to the strange girl who had come to his lands.

Even at first glance, it was plain to see why Jory had been so uncertain about the girl. She was certainly not a commoner, nor a wildling. Her clothes were rough, but despite being surrounded by armed men, and with no apparent weapons to protect herself, she showed absolutely no fear. There was a resolute confidence in her gaze as she observed the guards, making no aggressive moves, but certainly not any deferential ones, either.

That changed as Ned approached. The girl's eyes widened when she saw him, and she fell to her knees, pressing her forehead to the ground with her hands positioned almost awkwardly palm down next to her head.

The guards had been surprised by this quick movement, but given that it was a clear sign of respect, none reacted poorly, for which Ned was grateful.

After a moment, the young woman looked up at him, an almost questioning expression on her face. He made a gesture that he hoped she would understand meant for her to stand, and was pleased to see that at least some form of communication would be possible as she rose to her feet.

The young woman brought her hand in front of her, her fingers pointing to her chest. "_Tenten,_" she said clearly.

_Her name?_ Ned didn't take much time to ponder this thought. "Eddard Stark," he replied, gesturing to himself in the same fashion.

"_Edādo Stāku-sama_," the girl repeated, her brow furrowed in concentration. It was obvious that she was doing her best to say his name correctly, but her mouth was simply not accustomed to making the necessary sounds.

"Where's Luwin?" he asked, looking around.

"He's coming," came the gruff reply from Ser Rodrik as the man gestured back toward the main keep. Ned turned to see that the old Maester was indeed hurrying over, moving as quickly as the heavy grey robe allowed.

"Apologies for the delay, my lord," the old man said as he arrived, panting slightly.

"Thank you for coming so quickly," Ned replied. "Do you understand her language?" He turned his attention back to the girl, pointing to her, then miming something coming out of his mouth, and then pointing to Luwin.

The visitor seemed momentarily confused before understanding filled her eyes. "_Watashi wa Tenten desu. Konohagakure no sato no kunoichi desu,_" she said, looking hopefully at the old man.

Her hope, unfortunately, was in vain. "I'm sorry, my lord, but this isn't a language that I'm familiar with," the old Maester responded.

Ned was slightly disappointed, but not surprised. It had been unlikely, he knew. "Well, we're not going to accomplish anything out here, and I'm certainly not going to allow a young woman to travel alone in a land where she doesn't even speak the language. Bring some food to the hall. Hearty stew and bread should be sufficient," he said, and one of the guards ran off to fulfill his lord's commands.

"Luwin, I'd like you to stay with her. See if you can learn anything about where she comes from, and her language."

"Yes, Lord Stark," came the simple reply.

Ned turned back to the girl, unsurprised to find her keen eyes studying him closely. He made a 'come here' motion, then turned and pointed to the keep. The girl clearly understood, for she followed as he walked, unconcerned by the guards that followed.

As the unusual party made their way back inside, Ned couldn't help but wonder just what strange events this mysterious girl would bring.

* * *

A/N – This isn't going to be a particularly long story. Let's face it, Tenten, or any other competent ninja, is going to be ridiculously OP in the World of Ice and Fire. She's a superhumanly strong faceless man who can walk on water or up walls and can hide her weapons in a piece of paper. No castle can possibly keep her out. And despite Ned's disapproval of assassinations, even he'll have to admit that it's better than trying to fight a traditional war against an enemy with no honor.

Also, it's been a long time since I read the books, and I'm not going to reread them until Winds of Winter comes out. So, if there are any mistakes in here where I go against canon, it's GRRM's fault for taking so long.


	2. Chapter 2: Winterfell

Chapter 2: Winterfell

Sansa closely studied the strange young woman who had appeared suddenly the previous day, and was now seated next to Maester Luwin. She still didn't understand why Father had allowed the girl to stay and was treating her with such honor. She was clearly a peasant, and while Sansa understood that part of being a graceful lady meant being kind to those less fortunate than herself, it was still highly improper for a commoner with absolutely no ties to House Stark to take meals with them at their table.

Her younger sister, of course, seemed overjoyed at the idea of meeting the foreign woman. She could hear Arya whispering to Bran, discussing theories of where she had come from, and how she had arrived at Winterfell with nothing more than the very poor clothes on her back. Unfortunately for Arya, Sansa had heard that the girl couldn't speak their language, which was why she stayed so close to the old maester. Between them, they had worked out some form of primitive communication based on hand movements and exaggerated expressions.

In the end, the auburn-haired girl turned her attention back to the meal in front of her with a sigh. Doubtless Father would soon determine what needed to be done with the girl, and she would be sent on her way.

* * *

The meal was a simple affair, but filling. For that, Tenten was glad. The man who lead these people (whose name she couldn't pronounce properly, to her shame) was clearly a noble of some sort. She had heard tales from other ninja of strange delicacies in foreign lands that made her want to vomit just thinking about them, but were, apparently, highly prized among their nobles. Fortunately, these people didn't seem to have any such strange tastes.

Instead, her plate had been loaded with bread, sausages and eggs, with a bowl of some sort of thick porridge. Tenten had been slightly embarrassed when she had seen the incredulous looks on some of the other faces at how much she ate, but as a kunoichi, she needed many more calories every day than a normal girl, and she was also still recovering from several weeks of near starvation.

After she had finished, she and the old man in the grey robe left the banquet hall and began the now familiar journey to his strange office. As she understood it, Luwin was some sort of wise man who fulfilled a number of roles in the castle, including those of healer, teacher, and advisor to Edādo-sama. Now, it seemed that he was her best hope for finding a way home. Of course, since these people didn't even have electricity, she wasn't overly optimistic. She'd never heard of anywhere that was still so primitive, technologically speaking. And this obviously wasn't a case of some isolated village. It was clear from her long journey south that this whole province was at a similar level of development. Fortunately, this region south of the big ice wall was more advanced than the area north of it.

If what Luwin said was accurate, this whole area, and many, many days travel to the south as well, were all one country, with a fairly similar culture, albeit with certain local peculiarities. Across the sea, one could find much more diverse populations, but nothing the least bit reminiscent of the Elemental Nations. He had even shown her a map, which didn't match anything she had ever seen. And, of course, he was just as confused by the map she had sketched out showing the elemental nations. To say that it was disheartening was an understatement. Last night, for the first time since her arrival in this strange land, she had lain awake, wondering if she would ever see her beloved Konoha again. The idea that she might be stuck here for the rest of her life was a painful one to consider, but no shinobi could go through life ignoring harsh truths simply because they were unpleasant. One had to face the facts, even when the facts were not as one wished. _Especially_ when the facts were not as one wished.

They arrived at Luwin's office. He seated himself at a simple desk, and she took her customary chair on the other side. Gathering several pieces of parchment, he flipped through them quickly, muttering to himself in their strange language before turning his attention back to her.

"Well, let's see if we can't learn a little bit more about how you got here. If we can figure that out, it will give us some clues as to where exactly you came from," he said, obviously talking to himself mostly, since it was just the two of them. His voice was friendly, but it didn't help Tenten to understand the words. Still, Luwin didn't seem to be daunted by the difficulty of the task before them. Instead, he began using the various gestures, accompanied by simple words and phrases that they had developed to communicate.

* * *

Ned tried to focus on the numbers in front of him, but his mind kept drifting back to the mystery of the foreign girl. Despite the difficulty in communicating, Luwin had reported that she was a pleasant and cheerful individual who was likely well-educated among her people. While the letters and numbers that her people used were completely different from those of Westeros, Luwin was certain that she was very proficient in both. He had expressed some small degree of amazement at the intricate characters her people used, and the speed and confidence with which she had written them. The maester had estimated that her language must make use of thousands of these characters, a degree of complexity that Ned would not have thought possible a short time earlier. He trusted Luwin's conclusions, however, no matter how implausible they might seem.

A soft knock sounded on the door, and Luwin's balding head appeared. "My apologies for the intrusion, my Lord, but may I come in?" Ned nodded, and the maester stepped into the solar. "I thought it best that I update you on the information I gained from Lady Tenten. Unfortunately, there is still a very large barrier impeding meaningful communication beyond basic concepts. And this barrier is not limited strictly to the language. It is very clear that the land Lady Tenten comes from possesses a culture radically different from our own. In many cases, I struggled to help her understand things that you or I would consider simple even for a child, and I'm sure that the reverse was true as well."

"And where is Tenten now?" Ned asked.

"I thought it best that she be excused for the day. While she was unfailingly respectful and patient, I am familiar enough with the signs of someone who is anxious to engage in some sort of physical activity, rather than sitting all day." Luwin's smile turned a little mischievous. "I see it often enough in your sons, my Lord, not to mention your younger daughter." Ned rolled his eyes a little bit. Anyone who spent more than two minutes around Arya was familiar with the signs Luwin spoke of. "Jory escorted her out to the yard," the old man finished.

"Before you begin, I think it would be best if my wife were here. It might help to… assuage some of her concerns," the dark-haired man said.

The old maester looked a little skeptical, but made no attempt to convince his lord otherwise. Fortunately, Cat was not far away, so they didn't have long to wait.

"So, Luwin, what have you found?" Ned asked after Cat had situated herself in the chair near his side.

"In the interest of thoroughness I will cover everything I have learned, including what we spoke of last night, my lord, given that Lady Stark was not present for our conversation," the old man said, then paused for a moment, looking as though he was gathering his thoughts.

"Lady Tenten is a highly educated member of her society. The written form of their language is very complex, but she appears to have no difficulty with reading or writing it, while her skill with numbers is likely equivalent to, or perhaps even superior to the level of most maesters. However, to my surprise, this astonishing level of education is not directly related to her duties or position in her society. She is not any sort of scholar, nor is she a noble. To be perfectly blunt, while I still do not understand the exact nuances of the various words that she uses, my conclusion is that she is some form of highly trained soldier."

"Soldier?" Ned exclaimed in shock.

"Yes, my lord. A very special sort of soldier, however. Lady Tenten uses the words _shinobi_, _ninja_, and _kunoichi_ almost interchangeably to describe herself. She sees a very distinct difference between these _shinobi_ and a more traditional man at arms, which she referred to as a _heishi_ or an _ashigaru_. Her society also seems to have a word, _samurai_, which I believe refers to a warrior of some status sworn into service to a greater house, such as the Cassels."

"And what is the difference between… these people like herself and a regular soldier?" Ned pressed.

"I have been unable to figure out how to even ask that question, nor do I expect that I could understand her answer at this point," Luwin admitted. "I can say with confidence that the manner in which the _shinobi_ forces are led and maintained is very different from what we would expect to see in Westeros, and definitely sets them apart even from their traditional men at arms. It is possible that this is the only real difference, or that anything more is a subtle distinction that would be obvious only to someone very familiar with the culture. I think, however, that there is more to it than that."

Luwin paused for a moment. "I beg your pardon, my Lord, but would it be possible to send for a drink? I fear that I am beginning to get parched already, and we have only just begun."

Ned motioned to one of the guards who quietly left the room.

"Now, as I said, the _shinobi_ forces are completely separate from their traditional forces. As in Westeros, the nobility have a number of men at arms sworn into their service. The _shinobi_, however, are not sworn to any particular Lord, or even to the King. Technically, they are sworn to serve their home city, which is led by a _kage_. Lady Tenten comes from a city called _Konohagakure no sato_, though it is frequently referred to simply as _Konoha_. While there are a number of families or clans of prominence in this city, Lady Tenten does not seem to come from such a family. However, this does not appear to have hindered her opportunities at all. Apparently, the _shinobi_ work in small units, typically with four people, and one of the members of Lady Tenten's unit was the nephew of the leader of the most prominent family in Konoha."

"And what do these people do?" Cat asked, her voice betraying the confusion she felt.

"It appears that anyone, from the king down to a humble merchant, may hire the services of these shinobi."

"An entire city of sellswords?" Ned asked, appalled.

"I do not think it entirely fair, nor wise to try to judge their society based on our expectations. While it could simply have been a personal bias, my understanding based on Lady Tenten's explanation is that her home city has a close relationship with their country's royalty. Her unit, in fact, was once hired by the Queen to capture a dangerous beast called a _tora_, which I believe to be similar to a lion. She has worked as a bodyguard on multiple occasions, as well as fulfilling duties such as eliminating bandits or delivering important documents."

Try as he might, Ned just couldn't imagine any way that such a strange system could work. "Do we know how she arrived here?" he asked.

"She was unsure. She was in a fight, but either doesn't understand, or couldn't convey, how she arrived on our shores." Now Luwin looked slightly uncomfortable. "According to her explanation of her time since arriving in Westeros, and I have to say that I believe she is telling the truth, she arrived far north of the Wall. She then made her way down here, on foot the whole way."

"How could she have gotten over the Wall?" Catelyn demanded.

"She says that she climbed it," Luwin replied simply.

"And you believe that?" Ned asked in astonishment.

"She described the wall perfectly, and didn't seem to find it at all unusual or surprising that a _shinobi_ would be capable of climbing such an obstacle."

Ned had only seen the Wall once, but he couldn't imagine anyone being capable of climbing the icy structure. He was forced to admit, however, that it must be possible, for the wildlings still managed to pillage the lands south of the Wall from time to time.

"So, what do we do with her? She obviously can't stay here," Cat said bluntly.

"If you will forgive my impertinence, my lady, why can she not stay here?" Luwin asked, his voice calm and measured.

Cat seemed taken aback and struggled to find a response. "Well, this isn't her place. And what would she do?"

"Until we can determine where she came from, here is as good as anywhere, at least until she learns to speak the common tongue. And from what I understand of her culture, I do not think that she would be surprised or in any way offended if she were expected to work in exchange for her stay here. She's a quick study, so I believe that it would not be difficult for her to learn to work in the kitchen, or as one of the maids." Luwin glanced over at Ned. "There is, of course, another option as well."

Ned understood what the maester was implying. "You said she frequently worked as a bodyguard. We could employ her as a sworn sword in defense of Sansa and Arya."

This suggestion seemed to alarm Cat more than reassure her. "Our guards are sufficient to protect our daughters, Ned. I can only imagine what would happen if Arya were exposed to such an influence. She barely listens to the Septa now, and has absolutely no desire to learn to be a lady. She already seems fascinated by this... Tenten. If she gets it into her head that ladies can fight…" Cat's voice trailed off, though her meaning was clear.

"The Mormonts of Bear Island don't seem to have any problem with it," Luwin observed mildly.

"Arya is not a Mormont of Bear Island. She is a daughter of the Lord Paramount of the North, and certain things are and will be expected of her. No one is going to want a betrothal with a woman who has no sense of decorum and instead wants to fight like a man," Cat shot back.

Early in their marriage, Eddard and Catelyn had decided that he would be primarily responsible for raising, educating and disciplining their sons, while she would have charge over their daughters. It had been a good arrangement regarding Sansa, but there were times when he felt that Cat just didn't understand Arya, and never would. Cat was a Southron flower, while Arya was as wild as the direwolf on their banner.

"Anyone can say that they have skill with a blade. I need to see for myself before any decision is made," Ned said firmly. Catelyn didn't seem pleased that he was even considering the idea, but made no response.

Ned turned back to the old maester. "You said that Jory took her out to the yard?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Then let us follow. We can have her demonstrate her skills in a bout with one of the guards."

They exited the keep, and made their way over to the training grounds where Ser Rodrik was working with Robb and the others. To Ned's surprise there seemed to be some sort of commotion that was gathering the attention of many of the nearby guards and workers.

The crowd quickly parted as he approached, people shuffling respectfully out of his way, and he could soon see what had attracted such attention. He couldn't help but sigh. Theon. Of course, it would be Theon.

"Well, at least you won't have to arrange a fight with one of the guards," Luwin noted with a touch of mirth.

"Father," Robb said in greeting as he pushed his way through the crowd, his voice betraying the excitement and amusement he felt.

"Robb, Jon," Ned replied. "What's going on here?"

"Lady Tenten came to watch our training. Greyjoy… touched her inappropriately. She knocked him to the ground, and now seems to be demanding he fight her," Jon responded, his voice doing nothing to hide the glee he felt at the Greyjoy heir being embarrassed like that. Jon and Theon had never gotten along, and likely never would.

With an exasperated sigh, Ned turned his attention to the would-be combatants. Rather than a sword, Tenten had procured a quarterstaff from the nearby rack. And as he studied the girl, he realized that Luwin was right. Everything about her, from the familiarity with which she held the weapon, to her confident posture, even down to the carefully controlled movements of her feet, screamed to Ned's senses that she was no rank amateur.

Theon was no slouch with a blade, but this was one fight he didn't seem to want to partake in. It was anyone's guess whether that was because he was beginning to understand that he had bitten off more than he could swallow, or because he simply realized that whether he won or lost, he would still lose face. After all, no one in the North would respect a man who beat a woman.

Tenten had obviously seen his reluctance, but wasn't willing to let the earlier insult go. A wave of laughter engulfed the crowd as she began making rude gestures toward the Ironborn, first pointing at him, then acting like a scared little child.

"Should we stop them?" Robb asked, his voice now a little nervous as he watched how angry his friend was getting.

"Theon got himself into this mess, he can get himself out," Ned replied.

Robb turned to look at his father in shock. "Theon? What about Lady Tenten?"

"She clearly thinks she can win," the older man replied. "We'll just have to see."

"She doesn't even have a sword," Jon objected.

"A sword isn't the only weapon," Rodrik said harshly. "She obviously knows how to use that staff. And if you boys can't see that, we need to work more on your training."

Theon's face had taken a murderous cast, but when Tenten smirked, then began frowning exaggeratedly and rubbing her eyes with her fists like a bawling child, that was enough to push the Greyjoy heir over the edge. With a snarl, he charged at the girl.

Unfortunately for him, she responded much more quickly than anybody could have imagined. With a quick twirl of her staff, she redirected the blade, then dropped her weapon and turned partly, crouching so that her right shoulder hit the charging attacker in the stomach. Seemingly not at all burdened by the much larger boy, she seized his wrist with her left hand, planted her right hand against his lower stomach, and pushed.

Theon went flying over the foreign girl, turning over in the air only to come crashing down on his back with a groan. A shocked hush came over the crowd, before the laughter resumed, louder than ever. Theon climbed to his feet slowly, now warily eyeing the girl, who was making no effort to hide her amusement.

Kicking his blade over to her opponent, Tenten cocked her head to one side, seeming to study her opponent for a moment, before smirking and tossing her staff off to the side. She brought her hands up in an unmistakable 'come here' motion, crouching down in what was obviously a combat stance, though one Ned had never seen before.

"What's she doing?" Robb asked worriedly.

"What does it look like?" Rodrik responded gruffly, though Ned could detect a hidden kernel of amusement in the old knight's voice.

Theon grabbed the blade, and once more charged at the girl. There was a part of Ned that wanted to put an end to this. The Ironborn was obviously out for blood, and even with the training blade in his hands, he could do real damage to the girl, given her lack of any sort of protective gear. It was apparent, however, that she was unconcerned, so he did nothing other than resolve to have strong words with the boy that night.

It was soon clear that Ned needn't have worried. No matter how furiously Theon swung the sword, he never hit anything besides empty air. Tenten was too fast, dodging around his wild attacks with unimaginable speed and grace. Every so often she tripped the boy, or pushed him to one side, making it clear that she was just playing with him. This, if anything, just made her opponent angrier, but his rage didn't change anything. Instead, it made his situation worse. He had clearly lost all control of his temper, his swings wild and his movements frenzied, which only gave more openings for Tenten to exploit.

Finally, the foreign girl had had enough. Ducking under a savage swing of the sword, right at neck level, she darted past the boy, kicking at the back of his knee as she turned. Stunned by this sudden assault, Theon fell. Tenten grabbed the hand holding the blade and pulled it back, twisting the arm painfully, which caused the Ironborn to cry out and drop the sword. Pushing against the boy with her other hand, she knocked her opponent to the ground, face down, his arm still wrenched behind his back.

"That's enough," Ned called, and the crowd settled down. Tenten turned to look inquisitively at him, and he made a gesture for her to stand up. She acquiesced immediately, standing and bowing respectfully.

Theon also rose to his feet, albeit much more slowly. "Theon, go to your quarters. I'll be there soon," he commanded. He normally tried not to be too harsh with the boy, but for Theon to attack someone with obvious intent to kill simply because of an insult, and one that was delivered in response to Theon's own inappropriate actions, was beyond the pale. Still casting murderous glances at the young woman next to him, Theon stormed off toward the keep.

Ned studied the foreign woman carefully, his face stern. He couldn't help but be impressed. She didn't display any hint of nervousness, instead standing tall in what he assumed was some sort of formal position, hands behind her back, gazing straight forward. There was no sign of embarrassment or shame at what she had just done.

That, more than anything, is what settled things in his mind. "Maester Luwin, please find a way to convey to Lady Tenten that I would like to engage her services as a guard for my daughters," he instructed.


	3. Chapter 3: Bodyguard

Chapter 3: Bodyguard

Tenten lay on the bed in her quarters, thinking over the events of the past day. Fortunately for her, her gamble had paid off. It had been apparent that the old advisor, Luwin, had been intrigued at the idea of a female guard, and it took only a moment's thought to understand why. It was not at all uncommon for kunoichi to be assigned to protect female nobles, especially young females, to ensure that their virtue remained intact. With two young daughters, and no sign of female guards for them, she had hoped that Edādo-sama would see the value in keeping her here. Given that returning to Konoha was not looking possible at this time, it was far better for her to find a safe haven to stay at while she learned more about this strange land. Just learning the language would be a boon of unimaginable value.

The boy she had humiliated in the training yard was obviously an outsider, which is why she had been willing to be so harsh with him. It was apparent not only from his dress and appearance, but also the expressions on the faces of the other men in the yard. While he was a familiar sight, none of the others were particularly fond of him. Tenten frowned as she realized that was not entirely correct. Edādo-sama's son, Robu, seemed to like the boy, but fortunately had made no objection to her actions. The other boy, Jon, had been positively gleeful. Tenten wasn't entirely certain why Jon was also treated somewhat as a pariah given that he was clearly related to Edādo-sama. Perhaps an illegitimate son, or maybe the son of a brother who had tried to usurp Edādo-sama's position?

She would need to learn quickly. She hadn't grown up with any of the politics that seemed to abound in the high levels of society, but she had learned enough from Neji to know that one must always be cautious around nobility. These were the kind of people who enslaved their own kin without remorse and didn't even blink when their machinations resulted in the deaths of thousands of innocent commoners. From what she could tell, Edādo-sama seemed pleasant enough, and the commoners in this area seemed much happier than at the other castle she had seen further north, but it would be foolish to rely on appearances and first impressions.

Still, it was nice to have a place to stay. There was plenty of food, and while the castle was primitive, they did have hot water, which Tenten could certainly appreciate. She would need to study the language diligently. If she was forced to leave, being able to speak, even though she would certainly have an accent, would make things much easier for her.

As she drifted off to sleep, her mind turned to her new charges. What would Edādo-sama's daughters be like, she wondered. She had, of course, seen them at meals. The older one seemed like the fangirls back in Konoha, always obsessed with looking immaculate, but the younger one seemed like the type of girl Tenten could relate to. Only time would tell, of course…

* * *

As Ned had expected, his daughters' reactions had been as different as night and day.

"Really, Tenten's going to be our new guard?" Arya exclaimed excitedly. She had been disappointed at missing the fight yesterday, but Ned's announcement had removed any lingering trace of sadness.

"Father, we already have plenty of maids. Why would we need another one who can't even speak properly?" Sansa complained.

"Yes, she will be your new guard," Ned responded, looking at his younger daughter before turning to look at the elder one. "And she is not a maid. She's a guard. A highly trained fighter who will keep you safe."

"Safe from what?" Sansa demanded. "There's nothing to be concerned about here."

"Yes, here in Winterfell we should be safe, but as you get older, we will begin to travel. You're at an age now where we'll need to start looking at betrothals. It would be wise for you to have the opportunity to see some more of the world, and when we travel, having a guard like Tenten will be important. The world is not always a safe place," he replied sternly.

"Still, a woman with a sword is highly inappropriate," the red-haired girl insisted.

"Tenten doesn't even need a sword!" Arya pointed out, her voice filled with mirth. "I heard some of the guards talking about it. She humiliated Theon with just a staff, and then without any weapon at all!"

Ned interrupted the budding argument before it could even start. "For now, Tenten will still be focused primarily on learning our language with assistance from Maester Luwin," he stated firmly.

Arya's eyes lit up. "I could help!" she cried.

Ned's first instinct was to refuse, but as he thought about it, he realized that it might not be such a bad idea. Lessons with Septa Mordane were clearly not working for Arya. Perhaps learning from Luwin alongside Tenten would have a greater effect on his daughter. And, he reflected, teaching someone else was an especially effective way to learn more yourself. Ned had seen that himself during his time working with Benjen before he left to be fostered in the Vale. Still, he might as well use this opportunity to get some concessions out of his wild daughter.

"You may attend lessons with Tenten so long as you behave, both with Maester Luwin and Septa Mordane," he began. Seeing that she was about to protest, he pressed on without pause. "You will not spend as long in your lessons with the Septa as you have been, but they will still continue. Will you agree to that?"

Arya frowned mutinously, but in the end, nodded her head.

"Just like any other guard, Tenten will not be on duty all the time. So, you will respect her privacy, and give her time to herself when she wants," Ned continued.

"Okay," the girl quickly agreed.

Ned considered adding some sort of condition that Arya not pester her new guard for lessons in combat, something that Catelyn would whole-heartedly support. But he knew it was futile, and to be honest with himself, he didn't see any real problem with Arya learning how to fight, no matter what his wife thought.

"And when you are with her, you will obey her instructions," he finally said. "Her duty is to keep you safe. That means that you listen when she says something is dangerous."

Arya nodded firmly, a giant smile fixed on her face.

Ned sighed, feeling almost a little guilty at the force of nature he was about to unleash on the unsuspecting foreign woman. "She's in her lessons with Maester Luwin. You can go there now, if you want, but you will be on your best behavior."

Eyes sparkling, Arya dashed out of the room without a reply. Sansa sniffed disapprovingly at her sister's indecorous behavior, but Ned just smiled fondly. She was so like Lyanna had been at that age. Pushing that bittersweet thought aside, he turned his attention back to his elder daughter.

"I know it may not seem appropriate to have a woman guard, but any time we leave Winterfell, Tenten will be your almost constant companion, so you should try to get to know her now. She is a pleasant young woman, and I believe that you will find her company to be more enjoyable than you might expect."

Sansa still looked doubtful, but was too much of a little lady to argue with her Lord Father. Instead, she acquiesced, nodding her head slowly. "Yes, Father."

"Good," Ned replied with a smile. "Now, why don't you get on to your lessons."

The smile faded off his face after his daughter had exited his solar. He sat at the desk, a sigh escaping his lips. This seemed to be the best solution to a complex problem. His sense of honor dictated that Tenten be permitted to stay, but at the same time, he could hardly allow people to assume that anyone who showed up at his gates would be permitted to stay indefinitely. Employing the foreign woman as a guard was certainly unorthodox, but at least offered some justification for her continued presence at Winterfell. And perhaps it would be beneficial for Arya to have someone that she could relate to. Suppressing the momentary swell of amusement at the idea that a foreign woman who didn't understand the common tongue would be better able to understand his younger daughter than anyone else in Winterfell, he turned his attention back to the parchments on his desk. As long as this summer had been, it would end at some point. Winter was always coming, and it was his duty to see that the North was prepared.

* * *

Jon heard his target before she came into view. Or rather, he heard his younger half-sister, but given that Arya had firmly attached herself to the foreign newcomer's side, it was obvious that he had found who he was looking for.

"This is bread," Arya was saying. "Bread," she repeated, saying the word very clearly.

"Burēdo," the other girl responded. It was interesting to Jon how she spoke, with the 'r' sounding like a combination of an 'r' and an 'l', and the soft 'o' she included at the end of the word, as though she couldn't end simply with a 'd'.

Arya pointed excited at the girl. "How do you say it?" she asked, pointing to the loaf of bread in her hand.

"_Pan_," Tenten responded.

"_Pan_", Arya repeated with a smile, which grew even wider as she noticed Jon standing in the doorway. "Jon," she called out. "Tenten and I are teaching each other our language!"

Tenten turned and greeted him with a warm smile. "_Jon-kun, konnichi wa_," she said, then turned to look at Arya expectantly.

"That means hello," Arya proudly translated.

Tenten nodded to Arya, then turned her attention back to Jon. "Guritingusu, Jon-kun," she said.

It took Jon a minute to realize what she had said, her accent was so heavy. "Greetings, Lady Tenten," he replied courteously. "What does _kun_ mean?" he asked, shooting a glance at Arya.

"It's a title used by her people toward a boy of about their same age, or younger. If it's a girl, they use _chan_," Arya explained. "Tenten calls me Arya-chan," she informed him with a wide smile, trying to mimic the combined 'r' and 'l' sound that Tenten used.

"Oh," the boy replied, not entirely sure what to say. "Well, I was wondering if Lady Tenten wanted to spar in the yard," he said, shifting his glance between Arya and Tenten, not entirely sure how to get his point across.

Fortunately, Arya was quick to come to his rescue. Pointing at Tenten, then at Jon, she mimed sword fighting. "Fight," she said, pronouncing the word very clearly.

The foreign woman was quick on the uptake. "Fighto?" she repeated questioningly, making similar sword fighting movements with her hand. "I… ando… Jon-kun?"

"Yes," Arya exclaimed. "You and Jon."

Jon was relieved to see that the girl looked pleased with the idea. He hoped that it would be a friendly bout, one that wouldn't end in as humiliating a defeat as Theon had experienced.

They made their way out to the yard, with Arya taking the opportunity to point out all sorts of objects, saying the word in the common tongue, then demanding Tenten say the word in her language. Finally, they arrived at their destination. "Sword," she enunciated, pointing to the object in question.

"Soado," the foreign woman tried, doing her best to pronounce the word correctly. "_Tsurugi_," she then said.

"_Tsurugi_," Arya repeated gleefully.

Jon was a little surprised when the foreigner grabbed one of the training swords. He pointed over to the rack of quarterstaffs along the wall with a questioning expression, but she shook her head.

"Is okay," she replied, holding up the sword.

Still wondering if he was making a mistake, Jon grabbed one of the other swords, and took his position across from the young woman, settling into the stance Ser Rodrik had beaten into his head when Jon and Robb were first learning years ago.

Tenten's face was a picture of excitement as she lunged at him, the sword held confidently in front of her. Clearly, she was not as unfamiliar with the weapon as he had feared.

Jon managed to bring his blade up in time to parry, then countered with a horizontal slash. As expected, this was no more effective than any of Theon's attacks had been yesterday, as his opponent gracefully danced out of range, then darted in for a riposte of her own.

Given the skills that she had demonstrated the previous day, it was clear that she was simply humoring him, but Jon still found that he was enjoying himself. Rather than standing firm and blocking his attacks as one of the other men would do, she relied on her speed and agility to evade his blade, which often left Jon off-balance when he overcommitted on an attack that he would have expected to be blocked by another opponent.

He was breathing hard, and his arms felt like lead after swinging the heavy sword so much, but Tenten hardly seemed to be sweating, he realized with dismay. He didn't know how much longer he could last. His opponent, it seemed, had noticed his distress, for she quickly ended the match. Knocking his sword to the side with a sudden, unexpected swing of her blade, she stepped in close to him, grabbing his shirt as she brought her sword up, the edge pressing against his throat. For just a moment, Jon was almost painfully aware of just how close she was, her body nearly pressing up against his own, but then she stepped back, a playful smirk on her face.

"Is good," she said with a smile. Off to the side, Arya was cheering, and Jon was somewhat dismayed to see that she had been joined by Robb and Bran, both of whom were clearly amused at his loss.

"You just got beat by a girl, Snow," Robb taunted, though it was obvious that he meant it in jest.

"I'd like to see you do better, Stark," Jon countered.

Not surprisingly, Arya and Bran thought that this was a great idea. "Go on, Robb," Arya said, pushing her oldest brother forward, then gestured excitedly between Tenten and Robb.

Tenten did not seem to be opposed to the idea, watching Robb with one eyebrow raised. She stepped back away from the others, raising her blade in Robb's direction with a questioning, challenging look on her face.

Arya and Bran continued to cheer and encourage their brother, who finally relented. Jon joined his half-siblings off to the side.

"This is going to be good," Arya whispered with glee as Robb selected a sword and took his place across from Tenten with just a touch of reluctance. It was clear that he knew he was outmatched and wasn't looking forward to the teasing he would get when he lost.

At first, neither moved, choosing instead to study their opponent. Finally, Tenten broke the impasse, swinging her sword as she leaped forward. Robb brought his blade up to parry, but at the last moment, Tenten spun, her previous attack a feint as she instead attacked from the other side.

Robb scrambled back, just managing to get his sword down in time to block the low swipe. Tenten didn't press the assault, instead, giving her opponent time to get his balance, but it was obvious that she could have ended the fight right there. Still, Jon couldn't help but notice how her face lit up when Robb brought his sword back up resolutely, giving a brief nod of acknowledgement to his foe. It was a very pretty face, Jon noticed, but pushed that thought away.

The fight didn't last much longer than his own fight had. Soon enough, Robb was panting heavily, a rueful expression on his face while Tenten stood triumphant, both swords in her possession after a particularly impressive maneuver that had left Robb's arm so awkwardly twisted that she was able to knock the blade right out of his hand.

With a smile, she spun the blade in her left hand around, grabbing it by the cross-guard, and held it out to her opponent. "Is good," she said encouragingly.

"Obviously not good enough," Robb replied, with a small glare over to where his siblings were laughing and cheering. Still, he seemed to take the defeat in good humor, placing the training blade back on the rack, then striding over to his family with a mock scowl, which only made Arya laugh harder.

"Thank you for the spar, Lady Tenten," the red-haired boy said with a courteous bow before leaving.

Jon watched his half-brother leave with a small smile, grateful that he wasn't the only one who had been handily defeated by the foreign woman. He turned to see that she had rejoined the small group and was looking at him with an almost hopeful expression.

"Jon-kun… teach?" she asked with a tentative smile.

"Teach?" Jon repeated, mystified. "Teach what? You're better than me."

Tenten frowned in thought. "I…" her voice trailed off, then she began to dodge imaginary blows. "Jon-kun, Robu-kun…" This time, she held the blade up firmly, as though blocking those same imaginary attacks.

"She wants to learn your style of fighting," Arya realized.

Jon was still surprised and confused, but the hopeful expression on Lady Tenten's face was enough to convince him to try it. He was unsurprised to see that she learned quickly, taking to the various forms Ser Rodrik had shown him years ago like a duck to the water. And if he happened to notice Arya off to the side, following his instructions as well, it was no concern of his. After about an hour, Tenten stopped their practice, a mischievous expression on her face once more as she walked over to the rack of quarterstaffs, grabbing three.

She tossed one over to Arya, then held another out in front of Jon.

"I teach," the young woman explained with a grin.

* * *

Ned was very aware of the pointed looks his wife was giving to the small group conversing excitedly at the table, but to his relief, she didn't say anything. As he had expected, Arya had been overjoyed at the opportunity to spend time with her new guard, who had apparently wasted no time in teaching her young charge how to fight, though Jon was reportedly responsible for the instruction in swordplay.

It seemed that Arya and Jon both had enjoyed their time that afternoon with the young woman, which, Ned had to admit, was a relief. He was certainly aware, even painfully so, of how his wife treated his nephew (though, of course, nobody knew that was their relationship except for himself and Howland Reed) and at times he suspected that when he finally arrived in the afterlife, Lyanna would be waiting for him with a multitude of sharp implements to use in expressing her displeasure. But, when he claimed Jon as his own, he had, unwittingly, created a precarious position for himself. If anyone ever learned the truth, it would be a disaster, and should he try to force Catelyn to treat Jon more equally, it might raise questions that would lead a sufficiently curious person to discover what he had worked so hard to hide.

He wished now that he had thought to claim that Jon was actually one of Brandon's. Or maybe, revealed the truth to Benjen, and claim that his brother had unwittingly fathered the boy before joining the Night's Watch and now desired that his son be raised alongside his cousins. Surely Catelyn would not have objected to that.

But he had chosen his lie, and now, he was stuck with it. To change the story after so many years would raise many eyebrows. He was not so foolish as to think that the south was not keeping an eye on him. While he was confident that the servants here were loyal, he knew that the lords of the south, with their constant scheming for power, would not be completely ignorant of the King's oldest and closest friend. Sooner or later, the happenings of Winterfell would be known throughout the rest of Westeros.

Despite the acceptance from his cousins (with the unfortunate exception of Sansa), Jon had always been a very serious, even grim lad. Perhaps having someone else who didn't share in the prejudice regarding Jon's supposed circumstances of birth would help.

Ned turned his attention once more to where Tenten seemed to be telling a humorous story of some sort through copious use of gestures and pantomiming. As his children broke into laughter, he smiled as well. Thus far, his new guest seemed to be fitting in well. He could only hope that it would continue this way.

* * *

Tenten kept the broad smile plastered on her face for the whole meal. It wasn't particularly difficult, given that Arya and the others truly were pleasant company, but it was a bit tiring after a while. Still, she had realized early on that building relationships with the children, while difficult due to the language barrier, would be important to ensure her place here in the castle.

Even a bit of flirting, if necessary, she thought as she glanced over at Jon, who looked slightly less comfortable, no doubt due to the censorious glances Edādo-sama's wife kept sending their way. She didn't want to lead the boy on, and, truth be told, wasn't even sure if he was interested in her, but every little bit helped. Kunoichi were given additional lessons in the academy about how to use their feminine wiles to fulfill their missions, and though at the time Tenten had been just a little bit irritated at the subtle implication that females needed to 'cheat' a little in order to complete their duties, now she fully intended to use every option available to her.

"I wish I could have seen the fight yesterday with Theon," Arya groused. Tenten shot her a confused look, prompting the girl to try to explain what she had said.

After a few minutes, Tenten had interpreted most of what her young charge meant, but still was missing a few pieces. "Shian?" she asked, doing her best to mimic the unusual sounds these people used.

Arya frowned, before realization hit. "Theon," she repeated, pointing to the Greyjoy boy, who was now looking at them with a small frown.

Tenten made a somewhat derisive noise in the back of her throat. "_Shian-teme_," she repeated as she finally understood what Arya had been saying.

"Teme? What's that? You haven't used that one before," the girl piped up.

Tenten thought for a moment, inwardly glad that Arya had picked up on her word choice. It was basic psychology, really. Get accepted into a group by picking on an outsider. Not something she would normally consider to be acceptable behavior, but in this situation, she'd do whatever it took to win her place here. She held her hand up, as though marking a level over her head. "_Sama_," she said, then lowered it a little bit. _San_," she continued, then brought her hand to eye level. "_Kun_ and _chan_." She looked over at the boy, who was still watching, now looking a little confused. Her eyes narrowed into a glare. She slowly and very deliberately put her hand as far down as she could, maintaining eye contact with the target of her displeasure. "_Teme_," she finished, her voice dripping with derision.

The boy flushed angrily, while beside her, Arya and Bran laughed. Their siblings expressed their amusement in slightly less obvious ways, but it was clear that they had found her actions humorous. Even the normally somber Jon snickered a little.

* * *

Soon enough, the day was over, and Tenten was once more lying in her bed. She closed her eyes. Today had been a good start. She had definitely made progress, particularly with Arya, but also with Jon and Bran. But tomorrow would be another day. She would have to continue as she started, never getting complacent, doing all she could to build relationships with the people here. Her life just might depend on it.

* * *

In a dark and forbidding fortress on a desolate island hundreds of leagues to the south, a woman screamed. Despite the heat from the fire, she shivered, the sweat on her bare skin like droplets of ice in the cool night air. Still, she made no effort to cover herself, too enthralled by the vision her Lord had given her to pay any thought to concerns of the body.

The ruby at her neck glowed as she stared once more into the fire. She did not expect to receive any more visions this night, but it helped her to think as she looked at the emblem of her Lord. She reached up, and began to gently stroke the necklace as her mind raced.

There is power in King's blood; she had learned this truth many years ago. But if she had understood her Lord's vision correctly, this newcomer held an even greater power. With her sacrifice, Azor Ahai would surely rise to greater heights than even she had imagined.

Melisandre's eyes narrowed. She would need to find this girl – this daughter of the Leaf, who runs with wolves.


	4. Chapter 4: Friend

Chapter 4: Friend

Tenten sat on the floor in her small quarters, stretching and doing some simple exercises to strengthen her core, all the while thinking back over the past few months. Despite her unexpected presence, life at Winterfell quickly settled back into the usual routine. The North was a hard land, and people needed to prepare if they wanted to survive the long winter that would inevitably be coming. Tenten herself was no different. Though she was still obviously not a native speaker, her skill with the language these people spoke had progressed to the point that she could usually communicate without much difficulty. This meant that she now spent most of her time fulfilling her duty as sworn sword to Ned-sama's daughters, including keeping watch over Sansa and Arya during a trip down to the nearby Castle Cerwyn.

This was not to say that Tenten's education had ended. She was in a strange new world, and it was fascinating to learn about their society and history. She had a lesson with Luwin about once a week, and he had provided her with a number of simple books that she could use both to practice reading and to learn about Westeros. It was a struggle sometimes, but she knew that it would be worth it if she ever needed to leave Winterfell.

Not that she would want to. She missed Konoha dearly, and if there was any chance to return home, she would, of course, take it, no matter the risks. But, for now, it seemed that was impossible. She was stuck in this peculiar land, and was just grateful that the Starks had been so willing to accept her. Though Sansa was still a little distant, the other children had been pleased to have someone new to spend time with – especially Arya, who tended to stick to her side whenever she could.

The kunoichi couldn't help but smile at the thought of the young, mischievous girl who likely would have fit right in at Konoha. She would have been thrilled at the idea of attending classes to learn how to be a ninja, rather than the lessons she was required to attend with the septa. Tenten still wasn't sure exactly what those lessons were supposed to teach.

Sure, Arya was learning important skills such as sewing and… Tenten frowned in thought as she tried to think of what else the septa taught that could be considered remotely important. Nope, sewing seemed to be about it. Tenten resisted the urge to laugh, or perhaps sigh. No wonder Arya found the lessons so boring.

Tenten had just resolved to find some way to help her young friend escape the drudgery of Septa Mordane's lessons when a knock sounded on the door of her quarters.

She looked up, thoughts racing through her mind. _That was too loud to be one of my acquaintances among the female servants, and it didn't sound like someone in armor, so not one of the other guards. Arya would have just barged in here. So, it's probably Jon._

"Come in." She couldn't help the somewhat impish smile that spread across her face as she spoke. _This will be interesting_, she thought as she glanced down at the tight clothes that she usually wore while exercising in her chambers. She had made an effort to develop a relationship with Jon, given how close they were in age. She and Robb were of about the same age as well, but she had no desire to find out how Cat-sama would react if she thought the foreign girl had designs on her son. Tenten and Jon often spent time together in the yard, sparring and teaching each other their fighting styles (with Arya off to one side, learning as much as she could, of course). He had even begun to join her in her daily exercise, though he always griped a little about how embarrassing it was that he couldn't keep up with her during their usual run around Winterfell.

Still, there was always some distance between them. Jon was Ned-sama's illegitimate son, which caused Cat-sama to hate the boy with a passion that was almost disturbing. Bastards were not as despised in the North as in the South (according to Luwin), but not many people in Winterfell wanted to risk the ire of their Lord's wife by showing kindness to someone she so obviously despised. As such, with the exception of his half-siblings, Jon had grown up largely shunned by the people here. They were respectful, but distant, leading Jon to draw into himself. He tended to be a bit broody, something that had Tenten wanting to roll her eyes at times. _First Neji, now Jon. I keep running into young men who feel trapped because of their relation to leaders._ At least Jon didn't constantly lecture her inability to escape the whims of fate.

The door opened, and Jon entered. "Lady Tenten, I was hoping tha…" his voice trailed off as he looked at her. A blush quickly spread across his face, and he spun around quickly. "I beg your pardon," he said hurriedly.

Tenten barely managed to suppress a laugh. "_Jon-kun, daijyobu_?" she asked, deliberately keeping her voice light and innocent.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine," Jon replied quickly. His back was still to her, but judging by how his head was turned, Tenten had a suspicion that he was looking at her out of the corner of his eye.

The kunoichi frowned. Sure, her clothes were very tight and form fitting, which would likely be a bit scandalous by Westerosi standards if she were to walk around the halls of Winterfell, but she hadn't expected it to be enough to have Jon blushing like that. She glanced down, then almost snorted. She hadn't paid much attention to how cool her chamber got at night, but her body certainly had. The outline of her nipples could be clearly seen poking through the thin fabric. _Well, I guess Jon's getting more of a show tonight than I thought._

"Jon-kun not look at Tenten?" she said, her voice filled with fake confusion. _Just pretend it's part of your culture. He's certainly not going to complain._

"Well, you're… uh…" the teen stammered as he gestured to her with one hand.

"What wrong?" she said, once more glancing down. This wasn't the first time she had shown a little more skin than usual to gain an advantage. Memories of a past mission to Tanzaku-gai swam through her head. That had been far more embarrassing than this. She and Lee had been unable to look each other in the eye for days after that. After all, the tight spandex the boy insisted on wearing did absolutely nothing to hide what he had thought when he had seen her dressed to fit in with the prostitutes in the red-light district.

"I should, uh, give you some privacy so that you can get dressed," Jon finally said.

"I dressed. This what I wear to do…" she frowned, trying to think of the right word. "Inside exercise," she finally said, though she knew that wasn't quite right. She grabbed his arm, and pulled him further into the room, then shut the door. "Now, why Jon-kun come?" She smiled at him broadly, pretending not to notice how much difficulty he was having maintaining eye contact.

"Uh, inside exercise?" her visitor asked.

"Yes. I do to make strong…" her voice trailed off as she once more struggled to find the appropriate word. _Well, there's always the other way._

"Here," she finished, lifting her shirt up and pointing at her toned stomach muscles, the product of years of hard work. As she expected, Jon's eyes widened as he looked down.

One of the curious effects of chakra was that it drastically increased all functions of the body, to the point that a ninja caught off guard and suddenly aroused could, in fact, be knocked unconscious by the intense nosebleed. Naruto, apparently, had been a master of that, though she'd never seen his 'sexy jutsu' firsthand. Idly wondering if Jon might soon experience something similar, she grabbed her friend's hand and pressed it against her stomach.

"See, exercise make strong. Is important for fast moving," she explained with a smile. "I done now, but you come tomorrow, I teach," the kunochi suggested.

She let go of his hand, and Jon pulled it back somewhat reluctantly, she thought.

"So, why you come tonight?" she asked again.

It took a moment for Jon to regain his focus. "Arya got permission from Father to go out for a ride tomorrow to Stoat's Hill," he finally replied. "She was hoping that you would come along."

"Ride? On horse?" Tenten's eyes narrowed suspiciously. While she certainly preferred her own legs, she didn't have as much of a problem on horseback as she pretended, but she thought that it was best if there were things that the Stark children felt they could do better than her. And Arya was a natural at horse riding. The kunoichi sighed dramatically. "I come. Arya-chan is friend. Even if she ride horse," she finished with a scowl.

Jon gave a soft laugh, which surprised Tenten. He didn't do that often, normally maintaining a much more taciturn demeanor.

"Jon-kun laughed," she pointed out with a broad grin. "Should do that more."

The young man just rolled his eyes, then glanced at her body once more, the blush returning to his cheeks as he remembered what his friend was wearing.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Jon said as he hurried out of the room.

Tenten watched him go, her face still filled with mirth as the door shut. Teasing Jon was so much fun.

* * *

Arya cheered victoriously as she reached the top of the hill. She nudged the horse's flank a little, pulling on the reins to get it to turn around so that she could see the others. Jon was just coming over the crest now, while Tenten lagged a bit farther behind. Arya resisted the urge to laugh at the expression on the older girl's face. Her friend was actually pretty good on a horse, especially for how short a time she had been learning. Tenten just needed to relax a bit more.

It was nice here on the deserted hill. Winterfell could be seen, a little more than a league away. Large fields filled with grain surrounded the area, but the rocky hill was obviously not suitable for farming, despite the presence of a few large trees here and there. Arya enjoyed riding, and getting away from Winterfell and everyone's expectations that she act like a Southron lady was always a treat.

Finally, all three were at the top, the horses breathing hard from the race up. They dismounted, and tied the reins to a nearby tree, then retrieved the simple lunches they had brought from of the saddlebags.

"This is nice," the young Stark girl remarked as she flopped to the ground in a way that would have her mother gasping in dismay. "No septa, no lessons. Just horses and food."

Her companions both laughed.

"I think Tenten might prefer if we didn't have the horses, thought," Jon pointed out.

"Did you really not ride horses in Konoha?" Arya asked as she sat up, still trying to wrap her head around the idea.

"Some nobles ride, but ninja not ride. Not in Konoha," the older girl replied. Tenten looked around, then grabbed a large leaf that had fallen from the nearby oak tree. "What this? How you say?" she inquired.

"A leaf," Arya replied.

"Leaf," Tenten repeated experimentally. "I say _konoha_."

"Konoha? Like your home city?" Jon asked.

Tenten nodded, making the strange 'mm' sound that meant yes. "Konohagakure no sato mean town hide in leaf. There big forest around Konoha. Many trees. Away from road, horses not go through forest. Shinobi can hide, jump tree to tree. That how we travel. Shinobi always… quiet… people not see," she tried, though that wasn't quite the word she was looking for.

"Shinobi are stealthy?" Jon suggested.

That was the word. "Mm, stealthy. Horse not stealthy."

"Horses are fast, though," Arya pointed out.

Tenten made no reply, suppressing a smirk as she imagined Arya's reaction if she ever saw Tenten running at full, chakra-enhanced speed.

"What else do shinobi do?" Jon asked. "You know how to fight with lots of different weapons, but is there anything else you're trained to do?"

For a moment, Tenten tried to picture how her friends would react if she demonstrated chakra. Perhaps she could walk right up the tree, or jump thirty feet in the air. Or breath fire. That would be a good one. But she had decided when she first came that it would be best to keep her more impressive abilities to herself.

"Many ninja, many different training," she replied with a shrug. "I do weapons. Fight like sword or staff, also throw."

"Throw?" Arya perked up.

"Mm, throw," Tenten said as she grabbed the kunai she always kept at her side. The blacksmith, Mikken, had been intrigued by the unusual design, but, with Ned-sama's permission, had made a half-dozen kunai for the displaced kunoichi's use. Not even bothering to stand or even turn her body to face the target, Tenten threw the kunai at the tree off to the side.

The result was worth it. Arya and Jon both gaped open-mouthed at the kunai, which was now embedded firmly right in the center of a knot in the tree.

"That was amazing!" Arya squealed. "How did you do that?"

"Practice. Lots of practice," the other girl answered, then frowned in thought. "How you say when hit target middle?"

The Stark children thought for a moment, trying to interpret her unusual phrasing. "Bullseye," Jon finally suggested.

"Bullseye," Tenten repeated, though her pronunciation was a bit off. "Stark words, winter is coming. Tenten words, hundred throw, hundred bullseye," she declared proudly.

Arya was about to reply when she felt something hit her head. Looking up, she saw to her dismay that the sky was filled with dark clouds, and small drops of rain were already beginning to fall.

"We need to get home fast," Jon said, quite unnecessarily as the two girls were already scrambling to their feet.

They pushed the horses as fast as possible, but they couldn't outrun the storm. The three were soaking wet and shivering from the cold when they finally rode through the gates. Jon bid them both farewell, but as Arya turned down toward the staircase that led up to her room, Tenten stopped her.

"Arya-chan, follow," she said, gesturing toward a side passage.

Confused, the young Stark girl did as instructed, following her friend through the small corridor and down a narrow staircase. They passed several people that Arya recognized, mostly cooks and maids. At last, they arrived at a heavy wooden door which Tenten pulled open, then motioned for Arya to go inside.

"This servant bath," the older girl explained as she began to remove her wet clothing. "Best way get warm."

Arya followed her friend's example, stripping quickly then climbing into the warm water. "It's nice," she commented.

Tenten nodded. "In Konoha, I and friends, when get back from mission, go to bath. We say _onsen_. Good relax after hard mission."

Arya thought for a moment before finally summoning the courage to ask her question. "Do you miss Konoha?"

Tenten sighed. "Yes," she said simply, then explained a little more. "Konoha is home. Friends there." She looked forward, not really focusing on anything in particular, before turning her attention back to Arya with a smile. "But Winterfell is good. And have new friends here," she said, wrapping an arm around the younger girl's shoulders and giving her a gentle hug.

"I'm glad you're here," Arya admitted softly to the girl who had become more of a sister than Sansa could ever hope to be.

Tenten just smiled.

* * *

Not surprisingly, Cat-sama had been quite displeased when she found that Tenten had invited Arya down to the servant's bath, stating that it was not appropriate for someone of Arya's station, but Tenten wasn't too concerned about the lady's reaction. She doubted that Ned-sama would send her away for something so insignificant. After all, Arya hadn't been concerned about behaving in accordance with her mother's wishes even before Tenten came along. Of course, the fact that Tenten encouraged the younger girl to engage in 'unladylike' pursuits ensured that Cat-sama would never be one of the kunoichi's supporters.

Though she would never admit it, Tenten had struggled not to laugh at the expression on Cat-sama's face when Ned-sama had agreed with Tenten's declaration that, "best way to protect is make strong." The fact that Arya was behaving more in her lessons with the Septa had led to the Lord of Winterfell stepping in and officially giving Tenten permission to teach the younger girl to fight. Swords were still a bit heavy for the prepubescent girl, but for now, Tenten had her working on her speed and dodging, which would help her to develop the solid footwork that was the basis of all combat, both armed and unarmed. Though she was really looking forward to her young friend's reaction when she learned that Tenten had committed them both to dancing lessons with Sansa in a few weeks.

A knock on the door drew her out of her thoughts. "Come in," she called, and was pleased, though not surprised to see Jon.

"Jon-kun come. Is good. We do exercise?" she asked.

"Yes, if you're willing to teach me," the young man replied.

"Of course. Jon-kun is friend. Happy to help."

She gestured to an empty spot on the floor next to her. Her chambers weren't what one would call spacious, but as the only female guard, she at least had a private room rather than sharing the barracks with the other soldiers. Still, it would be a tight fit for the two of them. Somehow, she didn't think that Jon would mind.

She demonstrated a few stretches, exercises that required both flexibility and strength to maintain the somewhat awkward positions. It was clear that Jon was struggling, though he did his best. Of course, it was a question if he struggled because of the difficulty of the activity, or because most of his attention was on the tight clothes she was wearing and the very distracting views the stretches offered.

* * *

It was several weeks later that something out of the ordinary finally occurred.

As usual, Tenten joined the Starks for breakfast, though she sat at one of the lower tables with Jon most days. She had arrived a little later than normal, so she ate quickly. She had just finished when Rickon came running up to her.

"Tenten, sing!" the young boy squealed.

"Rickon-kun do hands?" she asked, looking at him closely. The boy nodded solemnly, holding his hands up in preparation. Tenten matched his posture as she began to sing.

"_Musunde, hiraite, te o utte, musunde,_" she sang softly, smiling as Rickon followed along with the hand gestures she had taught him.

"_Mata hiraite, te o utte, sono te o ue ni,_" Rickon giggled as they both raised their hands high above their heads.

"_Musunde, hiraite, te o utte, musunde,_" she finished, then lunged forward to tickle the young boy, who shrieked and ran away. He didn't get far, however, before bumping into his father, who had been watching the pair with a smile.

"Ned-sama!" Tenten exclaimed as straightened quickly, startled and a little embarrassed that she hadn't seen him there. Such a mistake was shameful for a serious kunoichi like her.

"You two were having fun," he said, gazing down at his youngest son fondly.

"Yes," the littlest Stark replied with a big grin.

"Well, why don't you go find one of the other maids," Ned instructed. "I need to speak with Tenten."

Rickon nodded and raced out the hall, laughing as he picked up speed.

"A deserter from the Night's Watch was captured at a village not far from here," the stern-faced man began. "I'll be taking Robb, Jon and Bran with me to the execution, but I'd like you to keep an eye on Arya. I think she might try to follow."

Tenten nodded. "I understand. Arya-chan will stay with me."

Ned nodded in thanks before leaving. Tenten considered her options for distracting Arya, a frown crossing her face as she thought. Finally, inspiration struck.

"Arya-chan, come," she called. "Special lesson."

"It's not more dancing, is it?" the young girl asked suspiciously as she approached.

Tenten fixed her with a firm look. "Learn dance, learn fight, is same. Learn control body," she said sternly, before relaxing a little bit. "But today, different lesson. Today is learn throwing."

Arya's eyes widened in excitement. "You'll teach me how to throw like you?" she cried, surprise and delight evident in her voice.

"Throw like me take much practice," the kunoichi warned. "But I show you how," she finished with a smile.

* * *

Night was fast approaching when Lord Stark and his retinue returned, and Tenten and the two Stark girls were surprised to discover that the party had grown.

"They're adorable," Sansa gushed at the sight of the small cubs.

"You will train them yourselves, and you will feed them yourselves," Ned-sama instructed, gazing at his daughters imperiously.

Both quickly nodded as they continued to hold the young direwolves. Tenten was pleased to see that Jon also had a cub in his arms, though it appeared to be as white as snow, unlike the more common grey of its siblings.

"We can teach them to fight alongside us battle, just like House Inuzuka in Konoha! None of the other houses would have the courage to stand against the direwolves of House Stark!" Arya bragged.

Though outwardly she laughed, inside, Tenten was wondering if Arya was more correct than she realized. Tenten had encountered a massive direwolf north of the Wall. If the cubs grew into creatures that size, and if they could be trained properly, they would make for powerful battlefield companions.

Unfortunately, the new direwolves were not the only surprise. Maester Luwin had received a raven from the capitol.

King Robert and many members of his court were coming to Winterfell.

* * *

A/N - And we're finally into canon! In case you can't tell, yes, this is going to be Jon/Tenten. Obviously, this means some major deviations from canon where Jon is concerned.

The song that Tenten sings is a real Japanese children's song. It's to the tune of 'Go Tell Aunt Rhody'.

Basic translation:

Closed hands, open hands, clap your hands, closed hands,

Now open your hands, clap your hands, lift your hands up,

Closed hands, open hands, clap your hands, closed hands.


	5. Chapter 5: King

Chapter 5: King

Ned looked up as one of the guards opened the door.

"M'lord, Tenten is here."

"Send her in," the Stark Lord commanded.

The guard gave a shallow bow, then opened the door a little further for the foreign woman. Tenten entered, a smile on her face as it always was.

"Ned-sama," she said, bowing her head quickly before taking what Ned had taken to mentally calling her 'formal waiting pose' – head up, eyes straight ahead, and hands folded behind her back.

"Thank you for coming, Tenten. King Robert and his court will be here in a few days, and I wanted to talk with you briefly," Ned began. "I realize that the land you come from has a culture that differs greatly from our culture here, so I wanted to ensure that you understand the expectations that you will need to follow."

Tenten nodded in understanding. "Of course," she replied.

Ned took a deep breath. "I remember that you reacted… quite strongly when you first came to Theon touching you inappropriately, and while I certainly understand your reaction, and I would approve of such a reaction with someone in Winterfell, it is unlikely that everyone in the King's party will be as respectful, but you can't…" Ned trailed off, trying to think of how to say it. "React as you did with Theon." In truth, he didn't like that such a conversation was a necessity at all. He had been taught, both by his father and during his time in the Vale with Jon Arryn that women were to be respected. Unfortunately, that lesson had never quite sunk in with Robert, and Ned how no idea how the many people accompanying his old friend would behave either.

Tenten's face turned a bit more serious. "I fight Theon to make other soldiers respect Tenten. King only here for small time. Not respect Tenten, not matter. I defend me and Stark family from harm, but touch is not harm. I not fight unless real danger," she assured Ned.

He let out a silent sigh of relief. "Thank you," he replied. "Though I do hope there will be no such problem, if anything happens that you are uncomfortable with, you can speak to me privately."

"I understand," the young woman said, smiling once more, then cocked her head to one side. "I go now?"

"Yes, you're excused," Ned replied.

Tenten gave a shallow Westerosi-style bow, then exited the room.

* * *

Tenten wasn't quite sure if Ned didn't believe that she could control her temper if groped, or if he just didn't want to call attention to her for some other reason, but he had decided not to have her on duty when the king and his followers arrived. Not that she minded, of course. While guarding Arya and Sansa was simple work, and not unpleasant by any stretch of the imagination, she wasn't going to complain about having some free time. So instead of being down in the courtyard with Ned-sama, his family, and the key members of Winterfell, she was standing on the covered bridge that connected the Great Keep and the armory.

"Father spoke often of the demon of the Trident," Jon said from beside her. Tenten shot him a questioning glance, but he was staring down into the yard below intently. "That's not quite what I had expected," her friend admitted.

Privately, Tenten agreed. She knew that it was possible for overweight men to be strong fighters. Anyone who had seen an Akimichi fight knew that. But it was clear even from a distance that Robert Baratheon was no longer a warrior. His footsteps were unsteady, and he seemed to be constantly winded just from walking. A once strong man gone to seed.

"Maybe king not need to stay strong. Have other guards, so not need to fight for self," she suggested, though the idea still struck her as ridiculous. Why would people follow behind someone who couldn't even fight for them? Sandaime-sama had been an extremely capable warrior even at the end of his life. The king, however, was about Ned-sama's age, meaning mid to late 30's. That put him at only about a decade older than Guy-sensei. She couldn't help but laugh a little at the comparison. Guy-sensei would never be so 'unyouthful' as to allow himself to grow fat and weak like that.

She suppressed a momentary swell of melancholy at the memory. She knew that every day that passed decreased the likelihood that she would ever return to Konoha. It was a sad thought, but at least she was making a new home for herself here. With some effort, she pushed that train of thought away and turned her attention back to the courtyard.

Tenten and Jon continued to watch as Ned-sama and the King greeted each other, then apparently introduced their families to the other. She was a little confused when Ned-sama and the king left the courtyard, heading in the general direction of the First Keep.

"Where they go?" she asked. Jon didn't answer, though Tenten hadn't really expected one.

Down below, the king's party was dismounting horses and unloading wagons. Vayon Poole, the steward of Winterfell, was directing the servants, both those that accompanied the king and those from Winterfell. In surprisingly short order, the people gathered in the yard below had dispersed. Tenten suspected that the alacrity they had displayed had been in no small part due to the much lower temperature than the Southrons (as the Northerners disparagingly called the inhabitants of the rest of Westeros) were accustomed to. The fact that night was rapidly approaching made their tasks all the more urgent.

Tenten frowned as another, much smaller party passed the gates of Winterfell. There had been no delay, which meant that the men were likely well known to the guards, and presumably expected as well. Four of the men looked like regular Winterfell servants, likely hunters sent out to find meat for the feast tonight. It was the fifth man, however, who set Tenten's nerves on edge.

"Who that? Man in black?" she asked Jon softly, pointing down to the courtyard.

Her friend had been playing with his young direwolf, but turned back to the window to look. "Uncle Benjen!" he cried, the delight in his voice obvious.

Tenten frowned. "Uncle? Ned-sama's brother?" she inquired, trying to keep her voice level.

"Yes," Jon replied, though he seemed to have a small frown as he gazed at her a little worriedly.

"You go meet?" she asked, forcing a smile back on her face.

"Yes," the young man said once more. "You should come to. I'm sure you'll like him," Jon added.

Tenten made no reply, simply following over to the armory and down the staircase to the courtyard.

* * *

The feast was delicious, and to Tenten's great amusement, Jon took advantage of the unsupervised opportunity to indulge in a bit more of the summerwine than he would normally have been permitted. The southron boys that were sitting near them tried to regale her with stories, each attempting to improve on his predecessor's boasts, the claims becoming more and more outlandish as the hours passed and the feast showed no signs of ending.

At the royal table, the King was growing more and more flushed as he consumed a truly remarkable quantity of wine. Tenten couldn't stop a small grimace that crossed her face as he pulled one of the serving girls, Marin, she thought, on to his lap and grabbed one of her breasts. _And now I see why Ned-sama thought it best to warn me not to punch anyone._

Still, she had no such trouble down where she was seated. The feast ended (eventually) and she returned to her quarters, by no means surprised when Jon elected not to come for their regular core exercises. Tenten suppressed a small smirk. She'd never been drunk before, but she had heard plenty of stories of how bad it got the next day. The kunoichi didn't envy the headache her friend would have tomorrow.

* * *

The next day was, to Tenten's surprise, much like any other day, despite the presence of the royal guests. The king himself slept in until at least noon, then emerged demanding food and plenty of it. Jon was completely hungover, moaning in misery whenever someone made a sound in his presence, but since she was on duty and thus, spent most of her time with the Stark daughters, she barely noticed. And by the time that dinner came around, he was back to normal, though he had admitted to her that he had no intention of ever getting that drunk again.

Still, she was a little surprised when he came to her quarters that evening, looking more somber than usual. She invited him inside, but instead of taking his usual place on the floor to begin the exercises, he sat on her bed. It was amazing just how much more at ease he was now after the weeks they had been conducting these private meetings. Where before he had blushed at her clothes and almost fled out of the room when she suggested they talk for a while on her bed, now he looked perfectly comfortable. Tenten toyed with the idea of finding some new way to push the limits and get her friend to blush, but the unusually serious expression on his face made it clear that now was not the time.

"What bothering you?" she asked.

Jon scoffed softly. "That's what I wanted to ask you. You were startled and uncomfortable when you saw my Uncle, more than I've ever seen you. Why?"

"Jon-kun very good at seeing." Tenten sat on the bed next to, leaning back against the wall with a rueful sigh. "When I first come to Westeros, I in land north of big ice wall. While travel south, come to small village, smell smoke. It first time I see sign of people."

She paused for a moment to look over at her friend. "I go to village, hear screams. Run in, see three men are attack. Other men already dead, now men are…" she tried to think of how to say. It obviously wasn't a topic that had come up before. "They force women…"

Jon frowned. Though he had a suspicion that he knew what she was referring to, he wasn't quite sure. "Force them to…" he left the question hanging.

Tenten nodded. "They make women…" she rolled her eyes. Trying to communicate difficult ideas in this new language was always frustrating given her very limited vocabulary. She settled for pointing at Jon's groin, then at her own. Unsurprisingly, Jon blushed a little, but nodded in understanding.

"Rape," he said quietly. "They raped the women."

"Rape," Tenten repeated, frowning a little as she tested the new word. "Yes, they rape women, then try kill them."

"The people beyond the wall are savage. That's why the Night's Watch exists. That's the kind of people my uncle protects us all from," Jon explained.

Tenten shook her head. "No," she replied simply then paused for a moment. Finally, she turned to look right into her friend's eyes. "Men who attack, their cloth, all black. Like uncle."

Jon physically recoiled, blinking in confusion and opening and closing his mouth several times as though trying to find something to say. "No, that's not… they wouldn't… the Night's Watch wouldn't do that," he finally protested.

While she would normally take offense at being called a liar, particularly by a friend, Tenten couldn't blame Jon for his knee-jerk reaction. It was clear that he had been taught to respect the Night's Watch and was now being forced to accept that they weren't the heroes he had thought they were. She said nothing, waiting patiently for him to come to terms with what she had told him.

Jon stood, and began to pace back and forth, still distraught. Finally, he whirled around, staring at her desperately. "Tell me it's not true," he pleaded.

Tenten shook her head sadly. "It true. Sorry," she offered, but there wasn't any comfort to be found in her cold statement.

Jon slumped against the nearby wall. "We need to tell my uncle," he finally croaked. "He should… he needs to know. We have to make sure that they don't do that again. He's the First Ranger, he can stop them if you know what they looked like."

"They not do that again," Tenten replied softly.

"You can't know that," Jon roared, staring at her with tears beginning to form in the corner of his eyes.

"Jon-kun," Tenten whispered as she stood and embraced him, pulling him tight up against her for a short time before stepping back once more and looking at him, her hands still on his arms. Her face was more serious than Jon had ever seen before. "They not do that again. When I see what happen, I make sure."

Jon's face morphed from confusion to horror as he finally understood what she had said. "You… you killed them," he realized, a slight note of accusation in his voice.

"I am _kunoichi_. Kill enemies what I do," she responded calmly, still looking at him.

This simple statement shocked Jon. Yes, they had discussed her old home frequently, and she had never concealed the fact that she had killed others while fulfilling her duties. But while Jon had no problem with killing murderers or rapists or bandits, to kill members of the Night's Watch… Jon frowned as the realization hit. _But that's what they were. Murderers and rapists, no matter if they had joined the Night's Watch or not._

"We still need to tell Uncle Benjen," Jon stated after a long pause. He was much calmer now, though not because of a lack of emotion. He could feel the rage boiling up inside of him, but he refused to let it overwhelm him. He would not allow this sort of thing to ruin the Night's Watch. _Uncle Benjen can make sure that doesn't happen again._ "He needs to know. Come on."

Jon left the room, purposefully striding down the hall toward the staircase that led to the upper levels where the guests of honor were staying. Not the royal family, of course. They had an entire wing to themselves, but fortunately Benjen had just been given one of the regular rooms, though one much closer to the area the Starks used than most of the other guests. He hoped that Tenten was following him, but the young man was too focused to care. There was no sound behind him to reveal her presence, but that wasn't an indication of anything, given how quiet and stealthy she was at all times.

Jon pounded on the door. "Uncle, it's Jon," he called. The door swung open, and Benjen's questioning face appeared. "I… We have something to tell you," he said, glancing over his shoulder and relieved to see that Tenten had indeed accompanied him.

His uncle was obviously confused but opened the door and gestured for them to enter all the same.

"What's all this about?" he asked, though not unkindly. The usual smiling levity was gone, however.

"Tenten just told me about something that you need to know about the Night's Watch. About some of the things… Something that you need to know," he tried to explain. Finally choosing to just cut right to the heart of the matter, he relayed the tale his friend had told him.

Benjen was silent for a long moment. "I see," he finally replied, his tone very guarded. "While it is good to know why they are dead, why did you feel it was so important to tell me?"

Jon almost stared at his uncle, dumbfounded. "If there are brothers of the Night's Watch doing such a thing, they need to be stopped," he uttered, confused by his uncle's lack of understanding.

Benjen sighed, pain and remorse in his eyes. "Jon, not all of the men on the Wall are as honorable as I may have led you to believe," he finally admitted. "They are my brothers, but they are not without their faults. Some of them only joined to escape the gallows, often for crimes such as rape or murder." He looked down, his face betraying the reluctance he felt to continue. "Not all of them completely abandoned those acts. So long as they don't attack the inhabitants of the Seven Kingdoms…" his voice trailed off.

"So it's okay for them to murder or rape so long as they only do so to the people north of the wall? Everyone has always said that the Night's Watch guards against savages that would commit such atrocities in our lands. How is the Night's Watch any different?" Jon demanded hotly.

"The Night's Watch isn't perfect, but they're better than the wildlings," came Benjen's sharp retort. "The wildlings also commit atrocities amongst themselves. Murder is far from the worst thing beyond the Wall. Some of the wildling tribes enjoy torturing and cannibalizing their victims."

"That doesn't make it right," Jon almost screamed.

His uncle's face softened. "No," the man admitted. "But it does make it understandable. We don't have enough men on the wall to turn away any who join us, whatever their reason. So long as their violence is constrained to our enemies, they must be allowed to stay," he finished softly.

Jon reeled back, horrified at the admission. For so long, he had respected, even admired the men of the Night's Watch. In his mind, they had been a virtuous order of brothers who stood together to protect all people against the inhuman savages that lurked in the far north. And yet, they were no better than the monsters they claimed to fight.

He left his uncle's chambers without a word, storming toward his room.

"Jon-kun?"

He hadn't even realized that Tenten was still following until she called out to him.

He turned to see that her face was filled with sorrow and sympathy. "I… I need to be alone," he said softly before turning away once more.

* * *

To her disappointment, Tenten didn't see Jon at all the next day, so she was relieved when she heard a soft knock on the door to her chambers that evening. She opened and was unsurprised to see the young Stark man standing there, his eyes still betraying some of the pain he felt.

"Come in," she said softly, then gestured toward the bed. "Jon-kun want talk?"

Jon sat down. "I admired them," he began without preamble. "Everyone said they were honorable men standing in defense of all humanity. Not that they were murderers and thugs, the dregs of humanity swept up and left on the Wall to escape punishment for their actions."

Tenten said nothing, instead showing her support and understanding by sitting next to him, taking his hand in hers, her other hand gently rubbing his back and shoulders. She could understand how he felt. She had, after all, experienced something similar during her time in the Forest of Death during the chunin exams. She would never forget the shame she had felt as she watched a team of fellow leaf-nin laugh as they cruelly murdered a defeated foe. She could understand killing in battle, but what they had done… She forced her mind back to the present, focusing on the friend next to her.

"I always imagined I would join them some day," Jon said softly. "There's nothing else for me. A bastard has no place in this world. But, on the Wall, I could be welcomed, I could stand as equals with people I could trust to stand beside me."

"Jon-kun has family," Tenten pointed out softly. "Family love Jon-kun."

"It's not the same," the boy protested. "They're trueborn. I'm not. Robb will be the Lord of Winterfell one day. Bran and Rickon will be given keeps or holdfasts somewhere. And me…" he gave a half-hearted shrug before continuing in a bitter voice. "I'll have nothing. I have no future. Only to go freeze on a wall in the company of murderers."

Jon stared at his hands despondently. Where once he had imagined his future full of honor found in fulfilling a righteous purpose, his dreams had turned to ashes. He felt Tenten moving next to him, but he was still startled when swung her leg over so that she was now straddling him. She placed her hands on his shoulders, gazing intently into his eyes. Despite the intimate position they were now in, he didn't even try to protest.

"Jon-kun is strong," she said with a smile. "Jon-kun is brave. Jon-kun is smart. Jon-kun is honorable." She leaned forward, her forehead now resting against his. "Jon-kun not be given future. Not mean Jon-kun not have future. It mean, Jon-kun make own future."

Jon could feel his body reacting to the beautiful young woman pressing up against him, but if she felt his excitement, she made no response.

"Do you really think I can do that?" he finally asked as she pulled back a little to look at him with a gentle smile. Jon found himself entranced as he stared into her beautiful brown eyes.

"Not think. Know," his friend replied firmly.

"I'm just a bastard," he protested.

"I orphan," Tenten countered. "Never know parents. Maybe I also bastard. It not matter. If Jon-kun think he bastard, that all he ever be. But I think Jon-kun can be more if he choose."

It was a difficult thing to imagine. For so long, he had simply accepted that things would always be as they were. His head had been filled from his youth with stories of the evils of bastards who reached beyond their station, undoubtedly Lady Stark's attempts to convince Robb and his other siblings to hate and mistrust Jon as she did. But did his determination to never betray his family mean that he had to meekly accept that he had no control over his own fate? It was a strange idea to consider, made all the more difficult by the extremely distracting presence of his only female friend pressed up against him in the most intimate position he had ever been in.

"I… I need to think about it," Jon said pushing his back off the wall a little bit.

Fortunately, Tenten understood his intention, swinging her leg back over and turning so that she was once more seated beside him.

Jon stood without a word and began walking to the door when he was stopped by small yet firm arms wrapping around his torso. He could feel Tenten pressing against his back, her head resting against his left shoulder blade.

"When Jon-kun decide, Tenten will help."

She gave Jon one last gentle squeeze, then released him.

* * *

Ned lay awake, sleep not coming easily as he thought over the events of the day. He was still angry at Catelyn's refusal to allow Jon to stay. Jon had never been anything but kind to his cousins, at times behaving as more of a brother to the younger ones than even Robb. And yet, Catelyn could not, or would not see that.

Could he bring Jon south to King's Landing? Ned considered this idea before rejecting it. Bastards were not treated well in the south, even more so than in the north. The harsh winters in his homeland meant that every child was a treasure to be protected, no matter their circumstances of birth. The south had no such reason to accept the baseborn. Not to mention that to bring Jon would invite questions. Questions that might lead the suspicious eyes and wagging tongues of the south to learn of his greatest secret, the secret which could threaten all that he held dear if Robert ever learned the truth.

Ned had been relieved as Jon grew and there had been not a hint of his Targaryen heritage. It even explained why everyone was so willing to accept the idea that Jon really was his natural son. Of all his children, only Arya looked as much like a traditional Stark as Jon.

In the past, Jon had always looked to the Night's Watch, something that Ned would have supported, but preferably after Jon had truly become a man. But given what Benjen had shared about his conversation with their nephew, it was highly unlikely that Jon would ever consider the guardians of the Wall with the same reverence that he once had.

Not for the first time, Ned considered if it might be best to arrange for one of his lords to foster Jon as Hallys Hornwood had arranged for his natural son Lawrence. Unfortunately, this idea brought with it problems as well. Which lord would Jon be sent to? How would the other lords take such a thing? The Northern Lords could be a prickly and prideful bunch, with many old grievances stretching back generations. And how would Jon feel about being forced to leave everyone he had ever known? It would be cruelty, even if Jon could one day return.

He didn't have any answers, and so, instead, he lay awake staring into the darkness as he mind toiled over the problem he faced.

It was several days later that a solution presented itself, albeit a temporary solution at best. Still, it was better than any Ned had come up with on his own.

"So, this Archmaester wants Tenten to travel down to the Citadel," Ned repeated. "Does he give any sign that he knows of her homeland?"

"The messages makes no indication one way or the other, but given his reputation, I would not be surprised if Archmaester Marwyn does have some knowledge of Lady Tenten's people. He has traveled far into the east and speaks many languages. Even if he has not been to her land, perhaps he has at least heard some rumor of it," Luwin reported.

Ned sat in silent contemplation. Given that Sansa and Arya would be accompanying him south to King's Landing, he had planned on bringing Tenten as well. Of course, the most dangerous aspect of that would be the trip south. Once the party had safely arrived at the Red Keep, it wouldn't be nearly as hazardous. Tenten could escort them to King's Landing, then continue on to the Citadel. It shouldn't take too long to determine whether or not this Archmaester held any clue that might lead her home, but even if she were gone for several months, it would not pose a problem given that plenty of other guards would accompany the Starks south.

Of course, Tenten, though her skill with the common tongue had improved greatly over the past months, was by no means proficient in her speech. It would be best if she were accompanied as well, for though he had no doubts as to her ability to protect herself, he wasn't quite as sure about her ability find her way through a strange land where she barely spoke the language.

Which brought Ned to the idea that would, at least for the time being, solve many of his problems. "It is not uncommon for natural sons to join the maesters, is it not?"

Luwin blinked, obviously surprised by the seeming change of topic, but answered nonetheless. "Yes, all are welcome at the citadel, regardless of their circumstances of birth."

"And, as I recall, Oberyn Martell forged several links, though he never became a maester. Is such a thing common?"

"Anyone may study at the Citadel with permission from an Archmaester, even if they do not intend to take the vows," Luwin confirmed.

"A young woman traveling alone would attract attention," Ned said as he began to explain his thoughts to his adviser. "And given Tenten's difficulty with our language, it would be best if she were accompanied. She and Jon have grown very close."

"I know that they frequently spend time together in her quarters," Luwin offered. Upon seeing his Lord's surprised look, he hastily clarified, "I do not believe that he has dishonored her in any way. Simply that they enjoy talking, and he has mentioned that she has taught him a number of physical exercises." Luwin smiled. "I learned this when he approached me privately asking if I had any remedy to sooth sore muscles after trying too hard to imitate what she was demonstrating."

Ned smiled. He had frequently seen his nephew training with the foreign woman, often accompanied by his younger daughter. "If he were to accompany her to Oldtown, it would give him more of a chance to see the world. Perhaps he might find a place in it outside of Winterfell. And, if this Archmaester is not able to show Tenten the way home, it may give Jon and Tenten the opportunity to see if they desire to replace their friendship with something more."

"Would you permit such a thing?" Luwin asked, his voice betraying no indication of what he thought on the matter.

"Jon is my blood. I may not be able to give him my name or the holdings that my trueborn sons will receive, but I can give him this," the Lord of Winterfell stated firmly. "If he desires to marry a woman of his choosing, that shall be his right." His face turned solemn. "Would that I could do such a thing for all my children," he sighed.

Luwin nodded and exited the solar, leaving Ned to his dark thoughts. As always, thinking of Jon brought to mind Lyanna. It was especially relevant now with Robert so close. A thousand regrets filled his mind, memories of all the signs that his sister had not been pleased with the match their father had chosen for her, and that Ned had so firmly supported. Perhaps it all could have been avoided. But it was in the past, and the ink was dry. All he could do now was move on.

He thought once more about his plan for Jon, gaining even more confidence in the idea the longer he considered it.

Yes, it wasn't a perfect solution. But it was enough for now.

* * *

A/N – I want to take a chance to explain my thoughts on two characters that I feel are much maligned – Robert Baratheon and Lyanna Stark. Feel free to skip my little rant if you want. It has absolutely no bearing on this story.

First, let's look at Robert. He was by no means perfect, but I don't think that he was nearly as bad as many people seem to think. There seem to be two main complaints about him. His whoring and the debt the crown accumulated during his reign. Let's consider these two points.

As everyone is, Robert was a product of his society. From what I can see in Westeros, the idea of staying completely loyal to one's spouse was the exception, not the norm. As I understand it, in the Middle Ages it was not at all unusual for a man to have a number of mistresses, some of which were, at times, elevated almost to the point of being a co-wife.

While the arranged marriages were very important for the purposes of building alliances and determining succession, the nobles realized that arranged marriages were not always built on love, so it was quite well understood that men would stray from the marriage bed. And yes, I'm fully aware that there was a very sexist double-standard in this regard during the Middle Ages. In truth, I think it could be justified on both parts, just so long as the wife doesn't pull a Cersei and try to claim that her bastards deserve her cuckolded husband's inheritance. Probably best if the wife just avoid illegitimate children all together.

I'm not saying that I think this is acceptable in our modern society. I truly believe that once two people are married, they should remain faithful to each other, not just in terms of sexuality, but also in respect, trust, and mutual support. But it's hard to champion the sanctity of marriage when it has been devalued to the point of a business agreement, as was common among the nobility in the Middle Ages. Men and women who did remain faithful to their spouse should, of course, be commended, but to assume that someone is a horrible person simply because they behaved in a manner that was not in line with our modern morals is outrageous. We should judge people based on how well they lived up to the principles they thought they should live by, not the ones that we think we should live by. I also think it interesting that Robert seemed to truly love Lyanna for who she was. He wasn't trying to make her into the ideal Southron lady. He admired the fire in her.

People seem to forget that Robert's Rebellion was quite justified. Whether Lyanna went willingly or not, Aerys had just murdered Rickard and Brandon Stark, and had called for Robert and Eddard's heads. We all cheered when William Wallace rose up against Edward the Longshanks in _Braveheart_. Robert was doing the exact same thing. And though his rage against the Targaryens was certainly excessive, he's not entirely wrong. Dany and Viserys really were plotting to regain the throne – to the point that they are hoping to bring the savage Dothraki to Westeros to rape and pillage. And while Ned thinks that it will never happen, it does – at least in the TV show. While I highly doubt that GRRM intends to match everything that happened in that travesty (especially Season 8), it's not difficult to imagine that he will stick with the general idea of Dany's story eventually intersecting with the stories of the other characters by bringing her and her followers to Westeros. In this light, Robert's concerns about Dany's marriage and pregnancy are not some paranoid delusion born out of bloodlust and hatred. He's fulfilling his duty as the leader and protector of Westeros by being proactive about a very real threat. Are there ways that it could have been handled better than killing a pregnant woman? Certainly. But ignoring the problem until the citizens of Westeros are being slaughtered is not a good way to deal with it.

As for the debt, keep in mind that Robert did a pretty dang good job pulling the Seven Kingdoms back together after an extremely devastating civil war. The implication that I got from the books was always that the financial troubles they were facing were primarily due to Littlefinger deliberately working to undermine the crown because 'chaos is a ladder'. And there's no indication that Robert had anything to do with his appointment. That was almost certainly Jon Arryn.

While Robert did like throwing tourneys with large prizes, that surely isn't anywhere near as costly as some of the things that many other kings had done in the past. Just imagine how expensive it would be to keep all those dragons the Targaryens originally had, or to build the Sept of Baelor (I'm not even considering the Red Keep because 'hey, at least Robert's better than Maegor the Cruel' isn't much of argument). In many ways, the tourneys would serve like stimulus packages, giving people something exciting to watch while the lucky winners get large amounts of coin, which they then spent. The money is still staying in Westeros. Again, it's not the greatest use of money (which would probably be served better by improving useful infrastructure such as roads and docks to increase trade) but it's not horrible.

Another possibility for the financial problems is that Varys might have been using ridiculous amounts of money for his spy network. This I find a bit hard to believe, even if it is plausible. There's no indication that Robert has ever really targeted the exiled Targaryens. Jon Arryn apparently convinced him not to have them assassinated, so why would they have been spending a fortune following them? Also, it completely rubbishes Varys' claims that he is truly working for the good of the realm (not that I have much faith in that backstabbing manatee regardless). If he demanded ridiculous amounts of money for his spy network, he was clearly trying to bankrupt the crown and cause problems in Westeros to justify the likely devastating war to restore the Targaryen dynasty. Trying to claim that a problem he helped create is the reason that he is betraying Robert is just hypocrisy at its finest.

In short, while Robert was by no means an exceptional king, he was a decent king – a charismatic individual that was able to bring the realm together after the Rebellion, which was what they needed at the time. If he had lived longer, or Joffrey not been the complete screwup he was, Westeros probably would have done better under the Baratheon dynasty than it would have under the Targaryen dynasty with its increasingly unstable rulers. And as for not recognizing that his 'son' was a complete psychopath, the impression I got in the books is that Joffrey was actually pretty good at hiding it when he was younger. It wasn't until he came to power that people really started to see a darker side to the golden prince.

The other person I'd like to take a look at is Lyanna. We don't have any evidence in the books to support the claims the show made that she deliberately ran off with Rhaegar rather than being taken by force, but even if the show's account turns out to be true, that still doesn't make her a bad person.

Her first real exposure to the Targaryens was at the Tourney at Harrenhal, when she discovered to her horror that the king to whom they all owed fealty was a complete madman. A cackling, paranoid madman with long hair and nails. It makes sense that she would be disturbed. So when the crown prince, this man's son, starts pursing her, she might be a little hesitant to reject him. Who knows how he'll react? And while there might be some issues with the Stormlands if she ends up as Rhaegar's second wife rather than marrying Robert Baratheon, a Prince outranks a Lord Paramount. If Rhaegar told Rickard that he wanted to marry Lyanna, there might be some discussion in an attempt to change his mind, but if Rhaegar was determined, the best thing for the Starks to do is agree. Not for the purpose of tying themselves to the royal family, but simply so that they don't anger the royal family. Rhaegar expressed interest in Lyanna, not the other way around. At that point, she was in a tough situation.

We don't know what messages she tried to send, or why they didn't arrive. There are several people who might have had both an opportunity and a motive to interfere with such messages, people like Baelish, Jon Connington, or even Varys. We don't know what happened that led Brandon to believe that Rhaegar had abducted her, but he reacted very foolishly. If he hadn't run off to King's Landing screaming that he intended to commit treason by killing the crown prince, the whole affair likely could have been settled without any bloodshed. If any Stark is to blame for what happened, it's Brandon, not Lyanna.

This isn't to say that Lyanna couldn't have possibly been a spoiled little brat who ran off with Rhaegar without caring one bit about what would happen to her family as some people seem to think. But there's absolutely nothing to indicate that she was that sort of despicable person. And in the absence of any proof to the contrary, I prefer to think that she was a slightly naïve teenage girl who found herself in a difficult situation and made what she thought was a good choice, only for it to backfire horribly.


	6. Chapter 6: Roseroad

Chapter 6: Roseroad

From her position on the upper level of the ornate wheelhouse, Sansa couldn't help but gasp as they crested the hill and the impressive sight of King's Landing came into view. Maester Luwin had spoken often of the history of this place – understandable, of course, given that it was the seat of power for the King of Westeros. And yet, the maester's words had not been able to properly convey the incredible magnitude, the unimaginable enormity of the largest city in the Seven Kingdoms.

She heard a soft exclamation and turned to see Bran staring in awe at the massive city. Bran looked at Tommen, his mouth still hanging open. Sansa was pleased that the two had become fast friends, though the young prince had admitted that he was concerned about Bran's direwolf Summer and how it might react to his kitties.

"You live there? It's huge!" her brother exclaimed to his friend. "So many people! How do they all live there?"

Tommen simply shrugged. "I don't know. We don't go into the city often. I have to spend most of my time in the keep," he explained.

Sansa turned her attention to other matters as her brother and the boy who would one day be her goodbrother began a discussion of life in the Red Keep. While she had to admit that the idea did intrigue her, she was more focused on finding her gallant prince. Finally, she spotted him, riding with the other men a little further ahead. A smile filled her face as she admired the sight of her betrothed sitting proud and tall on his mighty steed.

Truly, no woman could be as blessed as she was to one day be a wife for such a husband, and she thanked the Seven nightly for the wonderful kindness they had shown her.

Sansa was anxious to arrive, not only to see the grand castle that would be her new home when she and her magnificent Golden Lion were finally wed, but also to rest from the long journey. For though she would never complain, as such behavior was entirely inappropriate for a lady, she did have to admit that the trip south had been quite arduous. It had taken months, and though there had been no serious problems, she would be grateful to finally arrive.

Several weeks ago, the Northerners had finally been forced to abandon their heavy coats and furs for much lighter clothing. Sansa herself certainly did not mind, as the dresses she had brought fit in with the southern ladies, and the Queen herself had complimented her on the skill of her sewing and embroidery.

It was just as this thought crossed her mind that she noticed someone else admiring the view of the city. Someone who was absolutely not dressed according to her station.

Sansa suppressed a sigh. Fortunately, the Queen and her ladies-in-waiting had been most kind in their tolerance and understanding of Arya's refusal to wear appropriate attire. Instead of a dress, Arya now wore clothes that were an obvious attempt to mimic their female guard and servant, Tenten. Wool pants and a soft leather jerkin covering a light linen shirt might be acceptable for one of the male servants, but for a woman to wear such, and not just any woman, but one who would someday be the sister of the Queen, was truly scandalous.

Unfortunately, Arya gave no thought to the embarrassment that she was bringing to her family. As usual, she was too busy running around like a madwoman. Lately, she had taken to spending every moment she could with Nymeria, insisting that it would help build a bond between them so that one day she could ride Nymeria into battle like one of the great houses from Tenten's homeland. Why her Lord Father permitted such nonsense was beyond Sansa's ability to fathom, but her father had always had a soft spot for her younger sister, no matter how much mischief she got into.

Though, to be fair, there was one area where Tenten's presence had been a blessing. Shortly after her arrival at Winterfell, the foreign woman had abandoned the ridiculous hair fashion she had worn at first – two buns at the top of her head like a mouse's ears – and instead taken to wearing her hair in a more common northern fashion. However, when she wanted to engage in physical activity, Tenten would wrap her hair up into a surprisingly elegant bun at the back of her head, held in place with small, short sticks. Arya had thankfully taken to copying this fashion, which Sansa thought actually looked quite attractive, though, of course, she would never admit to such a thing out loud. It was certainly better than the ragged mess Arya's hair used to be.

Even mother had approved of the style, so much so that for Arya's last nameday, their parents had gifted her a set of ornate metal hair sticks with direwolf heads at the top. Arya had been quite taken with the gift, though Sansa had never had the heart to tell her mother that she had overheard Tenten pointing out that Arya could use the sticks to stab someone in the eye if she were ever attacked, which probably explained why Arya loved them so much.

It was rare to see Arya apart from their female guard. Of course, in her sister's eyes, Tenten was not a guard so much as a teacher. Sansa had often seen the two of them practicing the strange movements that Arya called 'katas', which, her sister had informed her, Tenten had said would help Arya learn to fight without weapons. Sansa rolled her eyes at the thought. As though a lady would ever need to fight. In fact, it seemed that these days, her sister struggled to speak for more than a few minutes without using the words, "Tenten says", as though the foreign woman was the ultimate example and source of wisdom that Arya strove to emulate.

She wondered how her sister would feel now that they had finally arrived, and Jon and Tenten would be continuing south to the Citadel in Oldtown. Perhaps Tenten would even find a way to return to her home. Privately, Sansa admitted that the possibility did cause her a small amount of sorrow. In fact, she would miss both Jon and Tenten, though, of course, she would never say so. Just the idea that a proper lady would regret the absence of her father's bastard and a servant was too ridiculous for words.

* * *

Night had already fallen by the time they finally reached the Keep. Tenten had to admire the tall walls that surrounded the large castle. Not quite as tall as the walls of Konoha, but still, more than adequate to deter all but the most determined attackers. Of course, such an obstacle would offer no challenge to a reasonably skilled shinobi, but given the lack of chakra in this strange land, it was understandable that the people here would not be prepared for such a threat.

Tenten glanced over at Jon. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that there was a lack of people trained in chakra. There were times that she was convinced that she could sense chakra in both Jon and Arya, though she'd never actually seen anything that would indicate they could use it. And Tenten certainly wasn't an expert on the subject. She knew that most upper-level shinobi could sense chakra to one degree or another, but Tenten had always assumed that she was a long way from that level. Perhaps being in a land without any chakra usage had increased her sensitivity to it?

She frowned at that thought, as she had each time the possibility that the Stark children could use chakra came to mind. If she was correct, was it just Jon and Arya? She'd never sensed anything like that from Bran, and only fleeting hints from Sansa. And if they really could, what should she do about it? She wasn't confident in her ability to teach, no matter how Arya had instantly accepted and devoutly followed even the vaguest of Tenten's recollections of how the Inuzuka trained their companions. That was not to mention the danger inherent in experimenting with chakra without trained professionals standing by in case of emergency. And when it came to chakra, Tenten was not a professional by any stretch of the imagination.

Her skills were limited to enhancing her body's natural abilities, storage scrolls, and a few simple jutsu like the Firestarter or treewalking. And given that sealing required high quality ink and paper or parchment, which she had yet to find in Westeros, she was very limited in what she would be able to teach.

She hadn't made any decisions, but fortunately, there was work to be done that could take her mind off of the matter. Ned-sama and the younger children had already disappeared into the keep, while she and Jon, in accordance with their stations, assisted the servants in unloading and carrying the northerners' possessions into their various rooms in the Tower of the Hand.

Though the Stark party had been much more sensible in the number of possessions they brought in comparison to King Robert and his followers, there were still many wagons to be unloaded, so the nearly full moon had risen high in the night sky by the time they were finally done.

It was with weary relief that Tenten finally climbed into bed in one of the small guest rooms on the level just above what the servants called the 'Small Hall'.

* * *

Jon looked around the hall where he and Tenten were breaking their fast alongside his father and half-siblings. Though last night they had all been excited to finally arrive in King's Landing, this morning was a more somber affair. It was finally sinking in that they would not see each other again for months.

Lord Stark was, as always, solemn and stoic, though Jon thought that he detected a hint of sadness in his father's eyes. Arya had been near tears this morning, begging her father to be allowed to accompany Jon and Tenten to Oldtown, and though Bran didn't go that far, it was clear that he did not appreciate their imminent departure either. Even Sansa seemed a bit more melancholy than usual, though it was difficult to notice given the way she carried on about her betrothed.

The direwolves seemed to have picked up on their master's emotions, or maybe they also understood that they would soon be separated. The heat of the south and the awful stench of the city seemed to have been an unpleasant change for the rapidly growing cubs, but now they gathered together in one corner, all but Ghost whimpering softly.

The door opened, and the occupants of the hall all turned to see a man about Theon's age, if Jon judged correctly, with coal black hair and blue eyes in elegant attire enter, followed by a younger man in green and yellow.

Lord Stark stood. "Lord Renly," he greeted the man with a small bow.

"Lord Stark," the man called, his voice light and almost playful. "You mentioned that your natural son and his friend would be traveling to the Citadel. My former squire, Ser Loras Tyrell," he said, gesturing to the other man, "asked to be introduced."

Ser Loras approached, and Jon stood. "Jon Snow, I presume," the knight said, extending his hand in friendly greeting. "A pleasure to meet you. I understand you will soon be traveling to the Reach. You must travel to Highgarden. My family would be honored to host you."

Jon was stunned. "I, uh, thank you for your kind words, and for your family's generosity," he managed to reply as he took the proffered hand.

"Think nothing of it," the other man replied, shaking his head dismissively, causing his long, curled hair to bounce around. The man then turned his attention to Tenten, who was seated at Jon's side. "And is this beauty perhaps the Lady Tenten?"

"Yes, I am Tenten," his friend replied. Jon frowned momentarily. Her accent, which had improved greatly during the months of travel, was back in full force for some reason.

Ser Loras reached out to take her hand, and brought it up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss on her knuckles. "A true pleasure to meet you, my Lady," he said as he stared forcefully into her eyes.

"And pleasure to meet you, Ser Roras," Tenten responded evenly.

Ser Loras released her hand and turned his attention back to Jon. "I shall write my family so they know to expect you, and provide you with a letter. Show it to any of the Tyrell armsmen and they shall escort you into Highgarden."

"Ser Roras very kind," Tenten said with a broad smile. "We grateful."

"Well, we'll let you all get back to your meal," Lord Renly said with a smile.

"I'll bring the letter before you leave," Ser Loras promised as the two men exited.

"I'm surprised they're showing such kindness to a bastard," Jon said quietly as they continued eating.

"In the last war, Tyrells supported king, but lost. Now, they have small influence in court. Ned-sama is now very important. They think, if nice to Ned-sama's son, he will like them so they have more power," Tenten explained just as softly.

Jon glanced over at her. It was so easy to fall into the trap of thinking that because she struggled at times with the language it meant that she didn't comprehend what was happening around her. She had a sharp mind, and obviously understood more about the political machinations in the south than he did, though he did have to wonder how she knew so much.

"Understanding why nobles think is very important for shinobi," she whispered, smiling as she answered his unasked question.

They finished their meal, and, after quickly gathering their belongings, made their way down to the courtyard, where Lord Stark and his children were waiting. Arya and Bran rushed forward to hug Jon and Tenten, both looking sorrowful, while Sansa stood beside her father accompanied by her friend Jeyne Poole.

Jon couldn't help the smile that spread across his face as his father reached forward to embrace him. Given his status as a bastard, not to mention Lord Stark's seemingly cold demeanor, such displays of affection were rare.

Movement to one side drew his attention, and he turned to see Lord Renly and Ser Loras emerge from a large doorway.

"You snuck out so soon, we almost missed you," the Baratheon Lord called out.

"Here, your letter of introduction," Ser Loras said, holding a small scroll out to Jon. "Show it to my family's guardsmen, and they'll escort you into Highgarden," he promised.

"And do be careful while traveling through the Kingswood," Renly added. "There have been a number of reports of bandits haunting the forest."

"Thank you for the warning," Jon said, nodding his head to the King's brother, "and for the letter. I look forward to the famous hospitality of the Reach."

He and Tenten climbed on to their horses, checking to ensure that the leads for the two spare horses they would be bringing were firmly attached.

Before they left, Tenten looked over once more at Lord Stark. "Ned-sama be careful," she called. "When Tenten protect, always person not die." She fixed him with a suspicious stare. "Ned-sama not be first."

"I will endeavor to ensure that your record remains flawless," Jon's father replied calmly, though Jon could see amusement in his grey eyes. He then turned his attention to Jon. "Farewell, son. I will see you soon."

"Farewell, father," Jon responded. With this final goodbye, the two travelers left the keep, riding out of the Red Keep and into the city proper. They had already gathered the supplies they would need for the journey, so they pressed forward through the crowd without stopping, exiting at the River Gate. It was after they had crossed the large stone bridge over the Blackwater that Jon finally asked the question that had been plaguing him.

"Why were you acting like you don't speak common very well?" he inquired. "I know you were pretending."

"It is wise to not let enemy see true skills," Tenten replied.

"You think Lord Baratheon and Ser Loras are enemies?" Jon was surprised. He knew that his friend tended to be a bit suspicious of those she was unfamiliar with, but the two men had been rather pleasant in his opinion.

"I know they are not friends. Maybe someday, but not now. So, best to be cautious," came the reply.

To this, Jon could only shrug. It made sense, he supposed, though he still felt such concern was unnecessary.

"What about the bandits?" he finally asked.

"What do you mean?" Tenten asked as she turned to look at him.

"What will we do? We could try to find a larger party that we could travel with," he suggested.

Tenten looked surprised. "If we join large party, bandits will not attack," she pointed out.

Now it was Jon's turn to be confused. "Yes, that's exactly what I mean." He frowned. "Why do you sound like you want them to attack?"

Tenten smiled, though Jon was a little unnerved to see her expression was more vicious than jovial. "If bandits attack, and we fight them, journey will not be boring. Also, if we fight bandits, there is big reward."

Jon wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know precisely what she meant.

* * *

They stayed the night at a small inn where the Roseroad split off from the Kingsroad. It was small, but well-built, with sturdy walls that blocked the wind and a fireplace in each room to ward off the cold of night. Not that it got very cold this far south, at least compared to Winterfell, but there was a chill in the air when the sun was down. But what really made the place perfect in Tenten's mind were the baths at the end of the building. Small baths, granted, but a welcome respite from the aches and discomforts of traveling. It had been well worth the extra coin.

As she soaked in the warm water, Tenten's thoughts turned to the coming journey, and her hopes of finally discovering a way back to Konoha.

She was glad that Jon would be with her. While she would not have been afraid to travel on her own, the journey would have been long and dull by herself. Time spent with Jon, however, was always pleasant.

She was also pleased for his sake. She couldn't imagine how terrible it would have been for him to stay in Winterfell given that Cat-sama was in charge while Ned-sama was gone.

Her smile faded as her mind finally turned to the issue that she had been avoiding. Would she really find a way to return to the Elemental Nations? After so long without hope, it was a difficult thing to consider. While she tried to stay optimistic, she had to admit that Westeros was so different from the Elemental Nations that she had begun to wonder how she had arrived here at all.

There had been legends, whispered stories told around campfires of great figures from the past whose exploits were more myth than fact, like the Sage of the Six Paths. Some of those stories had claimed that such people were able to travel to other worlds, completely separate from their own. Is this what had happened to her? Had she somehow been transported not just to another land, but to a separate world?

Given the vast technological difference between the two societies, that seemed plausible. It was one thing for them not to have chakra users, but the Westerosi had no electricity, no plumbing, not even a real understanding of concepts like gravity. And that was without even considering the seasons, which lasted years at a time. There had been no such thing back in Konoha. It couldn't be possible for part of the world to have such strange weather, while the other had a normal series of four seasons every year, could it?

No, there was no denying the conclusion to which she had arrived long ago. This was not just some remote part of the world, cut off from the Elemental Nations by such simple things as oceans or mountains. This was a separate world, which meant that her chances of ever returning to Konoha were, for all intents and purposes, nonexistent.

She would meet with the Archmaester. Perhaps he would have information, reports of other people who had found themselves in a similar situation, but she doubted that he would have the knowledge or the ability to send her home. Which meant that while this trip was a nice diversion, it did not answer the question of what she should do.

The Starks had welcomed her graciously (well, most of them) and she had grown close to them during her time in Winterfell. Should she stay with them?

While Tenten had always wanted to be a strong kunoichi, she couldn't deny that she was hoping for more in her life than just that. She wanted a family, to marry a good man and raise children. If she really was stuck here in Westeros, then she needed to look to her future. And if she did want to get married, Jon would be the best prospect for that.

While the two had grown much closer, she knew that even after months of friendly teasing, her friend would be reluctant to take the first step. Years of being treated as simply the 'Bastard of Winterfell' had taken its toll on the young man's self-worth. He felt that he had no future and would never ask Tenten to join him when he felt he had nothing to offer. At the same time, though, she was convinced that he did love her, even if he refused to admit it to himself.

But did she dare take that step? It was a difficult choice to make. And not just for fear of rejection.

A small frisson of guilt squirmed in her gut. She had done everything she could, used all the training she had been given to make a place for herself in Winterfell. She believed that Jon and Arya, and to a lesser extent Bran and Rickon, and even Robb, considered her to be a true friend. In Arya's case, the girl had admitted that she thought of Tenten as a sister, moreso even than Sansa. And yet, the truth of the matter was that Tenten had been manipulating them, never letting them see her true self, but rather, the image she had carefully crafted to fit in with the Stark children as best she could.

It hadn't been done maliciously. It was simply a matter of survival. She needed a safe place to stay while she learned the language and the culture. And it was only now that she was considering replacing the deception with a genuine relationship that she felt some small measure of guilt.

With Jon, she had taken pleasure in making him blush. She had enjoyed the way that he would stammer when she pressed up against him during their spars. She had relished the feel of his eyes on her body during their evening exercises, when he thought she didn't notice him watching her. It had initially been done to build a bond with him so that he would be an ardent supporter if Ned-sama ever considered sending her away, but it had become so much more. Was this a foundation for something real? Would Jon notice the difference were she to stop acting and instead behave as she normally would, with no deception or manipulation?

For the first time in her life, Tenten regretted the single-minded focus that she had maintained throughout her childhood. She had known that she wanted to be a kunoichi and had thrown all her time and effort into her training, disdaining the fangirls in the academy who were more interested in admiring their crush than in developing their combat skills. And yet, maybe they would have been more prepared for this situation than she.

She had been trained in the academy on how to attract a boy's interest in order to complete a mission, but was that really love?

The water had long since gone cold by the time Tenten finally left to return to her room.

* * *

Jon kept a close watch on his friend out of the corner of his eye. He couldn't tell what it was for sure, but something about Tenten was a little bit different. She seemed to be a bit more relaxed that she had been in the past, her smile just a bit brighter than before. Or maybe he was just seeing things. He knew she enjoyed soaking in a hot bath, he had seen the way her eyes had lit up when she saw the tubs at the inn the night before. Perhaps that was the cause of the small change he had noticed.

Whatever the cause, it was apparent that there was no real reason to be concerned. They mounted their horses and rode down the Roseroad at a good pace. According to the goodman at the inn, it would take about three days for them to reach the edge of the woods. He also confirmed Lord Renly's report of bandits lurking in wait for unwary travelers. He had suggested they stay until a larger party came by, but once more, Tenten had insisted they press onward.

They talked as they rode, with Jon recounting stories of life in Winterfell, and Tenten telling him of the various missions she had undertaken during her service for Konoha. It was… pleasant… to hear her speak of her home. Her voice had a musical lilt that made him smile, especially when she was animatedly explaining about the amusing peculiarities of the others on her team. He wondered at times if she were exaggerating, though she swore that everything she said was completely true. Still, it was difficult to believe that such strange people could exist, or that they could find themselves in such strange situations. Her description of her teacher, and Tenten's imitation of his shouts of 'flames of youth' actually had Jon helpless with laughter at one point.

The first day passed quickly, and as night fell, they hurried to find a defensible position that would not attract attention. Ghost, who spent most of his time roaming the forest on his own as he had during the trip to King's Landing, materialized out of the darkness in complete silence fitting for his name. Not wanting to attract attention, Jon and Tenten made no fire, instead eating a quick meal of bread and dried fruit. They took turns staying awake on watch, though, if Jon were honest with himself, he spent most of his time admiring his companion as the soft moonlight reflected off her beautiful features.

In some ways, this whole trip was the most painful thing he had ever experienced. In Winterfell, though only Lady Stark had truly hated him, he was usually shunned, since no one wanted to draw her ire. And while Theon constantly bragged about his whores, Jon had never desired such an experience. He didn't want a merely physical relationship. What he wanted… no, what he truly craved, was a woman that he could hold and love with all his heart. And yet, he knew that he would never find someone like that. Not a bastard like him. And so, he had long ago resigned himself to joining the Night's Watch, to find honor and purpose serving a cause greater than himself.

And then Tenten had come. Tenten, who had never once looked down on him because of his birth. Even when she had learned why others did, she encouraged him. She believed in him, that he could rise above what Lady Stark and those like her thought. And when she looked at him with those enchanting brown eyes and told him that he could build his own future, he believed her.

At first, he had wished that the Archmaester would be unsuccessful, that he would not discover where her home was. And that had brought a deep feeling of shame and self-loathing. What sort of foul creature would hope that his closest friend would be forever separated from those she so clearly loved? No, he would not be like that.

An owl hooted somewhere deep in the forest, and Tenten snuggled a little deeper into her blankets. Jon gazed wistfully down at her sleeping form.

Though it tore at his soul a little more every day as they moved south, he was determined to see her safely to the Citadel. He hoped that the maesters would find a way to return her to Konoha. She deserved the opportunity to see her people again, no matter how terrible it was for him.

And yet… what if they couldn't? It was the question that lingered in his thoughts every night. If Tenten truly was doomed to stay in Westeros for the rest of her life, what would happen then? Would she find a husband? In his most private moments, Jon imagined what it would be like to be wed to such a woman. No, not just 'such a woman'. He imagined what it would be like to hold Tenten, to love her, and know that she loved him back.

It was everything he could wish for. And yet, he knew that it could never be.

* * *

It was the next day when their luck ran out.

"Bandits," Tenten said softly. "On the south side."

"What should we do?" Jon asked. In truth, he was more than a little concerned about her intention to fight them, but he had decided long ago that he would stand beside her for as long as she wanted him there.

"Horses might get hurt. We leave them here, go fight on foot," she replied confidently before quickly dismounting. Jon followed her example and they tied the horses to a nearby tree. "Follow, but be stealthy," the beautiful young woman commanded.

They darted into the thick brush, moving swiftly away from the road, until Tenten changed course so that they were now running parallel to it. Jon paused as he saw Tenten duck low beneath a bush, reaching down to pull a kunai out of the strange holster she wore on her belt. Gripping it carefully, she tensed for just a moment, then spun around and threw it a little over his head.

Startled, Jon ducked to the ground, then turned to stare in shock behind him. A loud scream echoed through the still forest before being cut off quickly as the bandit who had been hiding in the tree hit the ground headfirst.

There was a moment of silence that seemed to permeate the entire forest.

"Time to draw your sword," Tenten advised cheerfully as she unholstered two more kunai, one for each hand.

Jon blinked in shock but followed her instructions quickly. And it was just in time.

With a shout, bandits charged into the small grove, ferocious battle cries resonating through what had just moments before been a peaceful forest. While Jon was surprised at their number, Tenten seemed to have no fear, instead rushing forward to meet them.

Even before training with Tenten, Jon had been a skilled fighter with a sword, better even than Robb, who was no slouch himself. And given how often he sparred with the foreign woman, Jon's skills had only increased. Fighting Tenten was like fighting a shadow. It didn't matter how fast your strike, she was always gone by the time your blade arrived. And after months of going up against such a swift opponent, Jon had found that his own speed had increased drastically as well.

These bandits, as intimidating as they looked, were slow-moving and poorly trained. Jon could see that clearly. And so, it was without fear that he rushed forward, the ancient Stark battle cry of "Winter is Coming" on his lips.

The attackers likely thought they could win through sheer numbers. They obviously realized how mistaken they were when Tenten sprinted through their rough line, the blades she held flashing out, slicing throats and stabbing into hearts. Even before Jon reached them, four bandits had already fallen. He could not move his longsword as quickly, so it took more time for him to kill each of his opponents, but the result was no less sure. With no armor, the thieves were easy prey for his sharp blade.

Shouts of wrath soon turned to screams of horror as the bandits realized the mistake they had made. Jon ducked under a blade, thrusting his own forward to stab his attacker in the stomach, then turned and quickly slashed his blade, decapitating a man that had tried to charge at his side. He looked around once more, and was unsurprised to see most of the bandits were dead, with just two more standing wide-eyed several paces away.

From the corner of his eye, Jon could see Tenten's arms flash out, the two kunai flying toward the men. To his surprise, however, she missed. Both men screamed in pain, clearly wounded, but not so severely that they were unable to flee. Jon rushed toward them, but it was too late, as they had already disappeared into the thick forest.

He turned to look at Tenten, who was studying the scene with mild interest. "Search the bodies, take anything valuable," she advised as she knelt by one of the corpses.

"I'm surprised you missed," Jon commented.

Tenten looked up with a smirk. "Not miss. They are wounded. Easy to follow now. But we have to go soon, so search bodies quickly."

Jon almost laughed as he realized her plan. Wound a few of them, then follow the survivors to their hideout. He turned his attention to the bodies on the ground. Swallowing deeply to calm his stomach at the sight of the dead men, the first men that he had personally killed, he went to work. It didn't take long to gather what few coins and possessions the bandits were carrying, then Tenten led him through the brush after retrieving her weapons.

"How are you so good at tracking?" Jon asked, impressed.

"My city, Konoha is hidden in big forest. All shinobi learn how to track. Very important skill," she replied.

The followed the trail for the better part of an hour before they came to a large clearing. A few men could be seen standing around a crude dwelling made of rocks and tree limbs. Tenten turned to look at Jon, her eyes sparkling. "Jon-kun ready?" she asked with a vicious smirk.

"Ready," he replied, matching her grin. Tenten leaped forward, startling Jon for a moment, as he stared in awe at how far she had jumped. There was no time to waste, however. As soon as they entered the clearing, the bandits on watch raised the alarm. More men spilled out of the hut, weapons in hand, but they were no better at fighting than their fellows had been.

The duo cut them down quickly, and this time, none were permitted to escape. Less than two minutes after they had charged into the clearing the fight was over, with only Jon and Tenten left alive. Kunai in hand, Tenten entered the hut cautiously, just in case there were more bandits lying in wait, but none had been that smart.

"Jon-kun, come here," he heard her call.

Given that her shout was one of excitement and not fear, Jon sheathed his blade before following her inside. To his surprise, the dwelling was much deeper than it had first appeared. It seemed to have been built at the entrance to a cave. There was very little light, but he was still able to navigate over the rough ground successfully. He finally spied his friend as he turned around one corner.

"What is…" his voice trailed off, the question unfinished as he understood what she had called him for.

"I told you. If we fight bandits, we get big reward," Tenten reminded him with a broad smile.

Jon made no reply, simply staring wide eyed at the sight before him. A heavy set of iron bars, complete with a small door, had been crudely attached to the stone walls. And beyond those bars lay a small chest of gold, and a mound of other expensive-looking items as well.

"We need to find key. Probably, leader has it. If not, I think we can break bars."

It turned out that locating the key was even easier than Jon had expected. Identifying the leader was simple, given that the was the one wearing the nicest clothing. The key had been on a chain around his neck. It was a different possession of the leader's that drew Jon's attention, however.

He picked up the sword, giving it a few experimental swings. It was well-balanced, and the blade perfectly straight. Or, at least, as far as he could see.

While the traditional Northern longsword he carried now was of excellent quality, he had grown increasingly dissatisfied with it over the past few months. During his time sparring with Tenten, he had gradually created a style of fighting quite different from the one Ser Rodrik had taught him, one which used far more movement than the established techniques. Dodging, lunging, sidestepping and circling had become more common in his personal style thanks to the greater speed he had developed while training with his friend, and a longsword, though extremely effective in the more static style favored in the north, was not quite as ideal with his new fighting method. But at the same time, with his strength and training, the extra reach of a longsword provided a distinct advantage over the common southern arming sword.

This sword, however, was somewhere in between. It was longer than an arming sword, but lighter and much more maneuverable than a longsword. The handle was long enough to fit both hands comfortably with a gap in between to provide plenty of leverage for powerful hits, but as Jon swung the weapon around, he could tell that it could easily be used in just one hand as well, though he would not have as much power behind his attacks. But when the situation called for greater speed, that was a small price to pay.

"New sword?"

Jon turned to find Tenten observing him closely.

"Yes. I've been looking for something just a little smaller than my current sword. And I think this is it," he replied.

Tenten approached him, studying the weapon carefully. "May I see?"

He flipped the sword around and presented it to her hilt first. She studied the weapon carefully. "Good blade. It looks strong. What kind of sword is it?" she asked as she handed it back to him.

Jon suppressed a small groan at the question. "It's called a bastard sword," he admitted as he slid the weapon into the rough leather sheath.

The amusement on her face was plain to see, but Tenten made no comment. "Come, let's take treasure out of cage. We can see better out here," she said.

* * *

While the actual fight had been quite exhilarating, especially since it had been the first time he had engaged in real combat, and finding the new sword had been exciting, looking at the bandits' hoard was a strangely solemn experience. The coins did not bother him as much, but as they sorted through the other treasures, Jon realized that these possessions had belonged to innocent people who had been murdered. Here and there he could see something that was likely a family heirloom, usually a simple but well-made piece of gold or silver – a cloak clasp, or a necklace, or a ring… It was even worse when the object had clearly belonged to a female, for Jon could all too easily imagine how much an innocent woman would suffer at the hands of robbers.

The treasure consisted of more than just precious metals. There were bolts of expensive-looking cloth, barrels of ale, a few wooden boxes filled with spices, and even a set of sturdy carpenter's tools.

Eventually they sorted out what they wanted to take with them, which was, not surprisingly, most of the treasure. Tenten's skill in the forest proved very useful once more as they left the clearing. She guided them back to the road with ease, though it did take a little bit of walking to find the spot where they had left the horses. Fortunately, all four animals were still there, and the saddlebags had not been disturbed.

Loading their spoils onto the horses, they mounted once more and set off. Soon they were laughing and jesting just as they had been before their encounter with the bandits.

* * *

The rest of their journey passed without incident, the thick forest giving way to gentle plains and cultivated fields as far as the eye could see. On and on the road stretched, the leagues passing quickly as they laughed and japed while riding. Frequently when they stopped, they sparred so that Jon could become accustomed to his blade. Their meals were simple, but filling, made all the more pleasant by the wonderful company. The spices they had liberated from the bandits helped as well.

A few times, Jon awoke with nightmares as he remembered the fight in the woods. He had heard that it was often difficult for people to accept the first time they killed another person, but he was careful not to let Tenten notice, not wanting her to think him weak.

And so, three weeks to the day after leaving King's Landing, they finally arrived at Highgarden.

* * *

A/N – Major deviations from canon here. Bran didn't see Jaime and Cersei, so he's still doing fine, and came down to King's Landing as was originally planned. This means that there was no assassin and Catelyn won't be coming down, which means that Tyrion won't be abducted/arrested, so Jaime doesn't confront Ned outside of the brothel, which means that Ned's leg doesn't get broken and Jaime is still in KL when Robert dies. This also delays the hostilities between the Lannisters and the Starks. Also, because the Riverlands weren't involved in Tyrion getting captured, Tywin isn't going to be quite so brutal there. He's still Tywin, so obviously there will be atrocities, but he's not trying to prove the whole 'don't mess with the Lannisters' thing like he was in canon. The Mountain wasn't ordered to start attacking Riverland villages, so no Doctors Without Borders. I mean, Brotherhood Without Banners. Arya spent all her time on the trip down with Tenten, so the incident at the Ruby Ford didn't happen, so all of the direwolves are still alive and Arya doesn't completely hate Joffrey.


	7. Chapter 7: Citadel

Chapter 7: Citadel

Much like King's Landing, the castle of Highgarden was surrounded by a large village. There was bustle and commotion everywhere as people went about their daily business. Children ran about underfoot, hawkers cried from their stalls advertising their wares, and guards seemed to be standing on every corner, keeping a careful watch to ensure the peace. Jon was grateful that he had left Ghost outside the village wall. The young direwolf did not enjoy the presence of large crowds, especially crowds of strangers.

Seeking out goldsmiths and merchants enabled them to sell most of the treasure they had acquired from the bandits, exchanging the luxury items for a good sum of gold. Coin was, after all, easier to transport than fine fabrics, though they kept the spices and the now half-empty barrel of ale for themselves.

It was late afternoon when they were escorted into the massive yet beautiful castle. Whether because they had been notified in advance or because such arrangements were commonplace, the guards asked no questions after being shown the letter Ser Loras had written, instead, leading them swiftly through the gates into the vast heart of Highgarden. It was an impressive castle, though Jon wanted to laugh a little at the claim that navigating the briar labyrinth was the only way to proceed from the outer wall to the middle one. Between the servants, guards, artisans and entertainers, there were thousands of people living in Highgarden, undoubtedly requiring several wagonloads of food every day. Surely, they didn't bring that in through the maze. And if they did, the correct path would be so heavily traveled that it would make the maze itself useless.

Word must have gone ahead, for as they passed through a massive stone gate set into the innermost wall, they saw two people in fine silk clothes waiting for them. The young woman was about Jon's age, with long brown hair and expressive brown eyes, while the man, about a decade older, had a small goatee and leaned heavily on a cane. Ser Loras' sister and oldest brother, it turned out.

"So what is it that brings you to the Reach?" Lady Margaery asked after introductions had been completed.

"I from different land," Tenten replied, once more exaggerating her accent. "We go to Citadel because they know perhaps where is my home."

"May I ask what your home is called?" Lord Willas inquired politely.

"Is called Konoha," the kunoichi replied. "But no one here has heard."

"Yes, that's not a land that I'm familiar with," the nobleman admitted. "How did you arrive on our shores?"

"I captured by slavers," Tenten lied, causing both Tyrells to wince in sympathy. "Escaped and found way to Winterfell."

"Well, thank the Seven that you were so fortunate as to escape, and to find yourself in the presence of an honorable man like Lord Stark," Willas responded.

"And what about you, Jon? Are you going to the Citadel for a reason?" the Tyrell maiden asked with a charming smile.

"Lord Stark bade me escort Lady Tenten," Jon explained. "While her ability to speak the common tongue has improved greatly, he thought it would be best to have someone proficient in the language travel with her."

"That's very generous of Lord Stark to send his own son," Willas stated. "But where are our manners? You must be tired from the long journey. Please, allow the servants to escort you to your rooms where you can refresh yourselves. Then, I hope you will join us for supper this evening."

"It would be an honor," Jon assured the Tyrell heir. "Thank you for showing us such courtesy."

"You are guests in Highgarden," Margaery replied lightly. "It is our pleasure."

* * *

While Willas and Margaery were perfectly polite, it turned out that not every member of the Tyrell family was so courteous, as Jon and Tenten discovered at dinner when they first encountered Lord Mace Tyrell's stooped and shriveled mother.

"So, the famous Bastard of Winterfell," the ancient matriarch said, studying him closely. "Proof that Eddard Stark's legendary honor has limits after all."

Jon's hand clenched tightly, but he did his best to remain calm. Around the table, the other Tyrells glanced at each other awkwardly, but no response.

"And escorting a foreign woman alone? Clearly Lord Stark doesn't care if his bastard gets a bastard of his own."

Tenten tossed her napkin on the table. "Come here was mistake," she announced as she stood.

Mace rose quickly. "Lady Tenten, my mother meant no offense," he tried to placate the kunoichi.

"I smart enough to know when we are insulted," Tenten replied bluntly. "In my land, always treat guest with respect. Her words show you not want us here. So, we leave."

The old woman scoffed. "At my age, I don't have enough time left to waste it on useless courtesies. I wouldn't have thought you'd be so quick to take offense."

"Be polite is just as easy as be rude," Tenten countered. "Age is excuse. You choose to be rude. So, we leave. But thank you for showing true hospitality of House Tyrell."

Mace looked like he wanted to object to Tenten's statement, but it was Margaery who spoke first. "It's already night," the young woman protested. "Where would you go?"

"Can find inn," Tenten replied with a shrug. "Perhaps they have respect."

"Of course they'll be courteous if you're paying them," Olenna responded dismissively.

Tenten gazed levelly at the old harridan before reaching into her pocket and removing two gold dragons, which she tossed on the table. "So you can be polite to next guest," she explained as she turned away.

Jon watched the argument with interest before standing and following his friend out of the room.

"Just going to do whatever she says like some brainless little sheep?" the Queen of Thorns demanded.

"My Lord Father instructed me to escort Lady Tenten. That is what I will do," Jon replied as he left.

* * *

They hadn't gone far before Margaery had caught up with them.

"Lady Tenten, please, wait," the young woman called.

Tenten turned, keeping her face neutral as she looked at the flustered noblewoman in front of her.

"Yes, Lady Margaery?" the kunoichi prompted.

"I apologize for my Grandmother's words. Please do not think that she was speaking for our whole family."

"And yet, when you hear her words, you say nothing," Tenten pointed out.

It seemed as though Margaery couldn't quite figure out how to respond to that. "Well, she is my grandmother," the girl explained weakly. "But please, don't allow her behavior to cause you to leave. I assure you, you will find far more comfort in Highgarden than any inn out in the village."

"In Konoha, we have saying. Better to sleep in alley with dogs than be insulted in palace," Tenten claimed. _Not like they'll ever know that I just made that up._ "Your grandmother insult my friend, but he not insult back. It mean bastard have more honor than lady of great house." In truth, Tenten knew that by their standards, she was probably overreacting. But she also knew that his status as a bastard had always haunted Jon, and she refused to allow her closest friend to be insulted. Since he would never say anything in his own defense, she would.

Willas appeared out of the doorway behind his sister, moving substantially slower due to his crippled leg. "Lady Tenten," he began with a polite nod of his head, "and Jon, I beg your pardon for my grandmother's indecorous words. I've taken the liberty of arranging for the four of us to dine in private out on the veranda. Please, allow us the chance to make amends for my grandmother's behavior," he pled earnestly.

Tenten glanced over at Jon, but it was clear that he intended to leave the decision to her. "Thank you. That is appreciated," she relented with a smile.

* * *

Dining with just Willas and Margaery was much more enjoyable. By unspoken agreement, all four ignored the previous events that had led to their current situation, instead turning conversation to more pleasant topics.

Tenten and Jon learned that the Tyrell siblings had another brother, Garlan, who was away visiting his wife Leonette's family, as well as a large extended family, two members of whom were at the Citadel (though Margaery privately admitted that both could be a bit boorish). Tenten shared a number of stories from her past, suitably altered, of course, to maintain the fiction that she was a noblewoman. And Jon regaled them with a description of life in Winterfell, though Tenten was pleased to note that he was careful not to share anything related to the inner workings of House Stark.

Though Willas had traveled to the capitol on occasion, Margaery never had, though she hinted that her father was hoping to take her there soon in the hopes of finding a suitor. As such, the young woman seemed enthralled by their descriptions of the massive city and the awe-inspiring castle it surrounded, though Tenten wondered if Margaery was exaggerating her wonderment. After all, surely she had heard all of this from her family at one point or another.

As their supper concluded, the discussion turned to their favorite pastimes. Jon's comment about the young direwolves the children of House Stark were raising seemed to amaze and intrigue Willas in equal measures. He explained his own interest in breeding hounds, and idly wondered aloud how introducing direwolf blood into the lines would affect the dogs. Tenten was surprised when Margaery told them of her love of horseback riding, claiming that it was the only time she felt free from the pressures of conforming to the expectations placed on her as a noblewoman. Though both were anxious to resume their journey, the travelers agreed to accompany the Tyrell siblings out riding the next morning.

Soon enough, the meal was finished, and, after thanking their hosts, Tenten and Jon made their way back to their rooms.

* * *

Breakfast the next morning was a sumptuous affair, though a quick one, to allow plenty of time for the excursion that morning. The two Tyrells were dressed in simpler clothes, both wearing the customary green base with yellow roses, though Tenten was surprised to see that Margaery's clothes were patterned with blue roses as well.

Willas required some assistance from the servants to mount his horse, but once in the saddle, he had no problems. The others mounted easily, and soon they were riding out across the countryside, passing the marvelous cultivated fields, ripe with bright colored fruits and flowers.

They stopped for a mid-morning snack at a hill with a simple stone table under a large tree, the servants quickly producing collapsible chairs for the Tyrells and their guests. The discussion was light and simple, but it halted quickly when one of the servants, a tall girl with something of the North in her appearance, gave a small shriek. Everyone turned, though thankfully, Jon reacted first.

"Ghost, come here," he called. "My apologies for the fright, my Lady. This is my wolf, Ghost."

The albino direwolf approached silently, coming to a rest beside his master, who petted his head.

"Incredible," Willas uttered breathlessly. "My I?" he asked, extending his hand.

"Of course, my Lord," Jon replied.

Willas slowly reached toward the large wolf, who eyed the man closely but made no movement. The Tyrell heir rubbed Ghost's head and back gently, gradually picking up speed. "How old is he?" he asked.

"Not yet half a year," Jon answered.

"And he's already this big?" Willas was clearly shocked.

"He is a direwolf, my Lord. His mother was dead when we found the pups, but she was the size of a large horse. I've no doubt her children will grow as large in time."

"A large horse?" Margaery exclaimed, looking horrified at the idea.

"Jon's sister Arya say she want to ride her wolf into battle someday," Tenten divulged, then had to carefully school her features into a neutral expression when she saw the terrified look on Margaery's face.

"What does he eat?" Willas inquired.

"We've taught all the wolves to stay away from livestock," Jon assured him. "Ghost mostly eats hares, weasels, stoats, and other such animals, though he did kill a boar in the Kingswood."

"At Ruby Ford, I saw him try to catch fish," Tenten added. "But not know if he did."

"Well, if he has pups, I would be interested in purchasing one from you, should Lord Stark be inclined to permit it," the Tyrell heir said.

"I will inform my Lord Father of your desire," Jon promised.

The conversation turned to other matters, and soon they were on their way back to Highgarden. Jon and Tenten packed quickly, and soon returned to the courtyard, where they retrieved their horses. Bidding farewell to Willas and Margaery and thanking them for the generous gift of enough food and supplies to see them to Oldtown, they were escorted out of the castle, and found their way through the winding streets to the southern road that would lead to their destination.

* * *

If there was one thing that amazed Jon more than any other about the Reach, it was that so many people could live in such heat. The sun beat down on them, and even in the lightest clothes he possessed, he still found himself sweating heavily by the afternoon, a condition made all the worse by the heavy humidity. He could only imagine how bad it must be for the many travelers on foot that they saw. Tenten did not appear to be as bothered by the high temperatures, though she admitted that the weather at Konoha was closer to that of the Reach than of the North.

Still, he was grateful when the massive Hightower came into view, the incredible light at the top burning brightly against the evening sky even at a distance, marking an imminent end to their long journey. As there was still some way to go, they camped in a small thicket of trees, then resumed their travel the next morning.

By mid-morning, the massive stone walls of Oldtown were clearly visible, and as they came closer, they could see throngs of people gathered about the strong gates, waiting to be allowed in by the guards.

They joined the queue and were soon admitted inside. Jon couldn't help but be impressed by the massive walls, which he estimated at a dozen paces thick at least.

"So, where should we go from here?" Tenten asked softly after they had pulled away from the large crowd entering the city.

"You should come this way," a gruff voice replied from behind them. Both travelers spun to see a short but powerfully built man with large hands and a heavy brow watching them intently.

"And, who are you?" Jon inquired.

"The one you've come to see," the man replied.

"And who have we come to see?" Tenten demanded suspiciously.

Rather than take offense at her tone, the squat man laughed. "Marwyn. They call me Marwyn the Mage."

"I was given to understand that Marwyn is a maester. I've never seen a maester without a chain or a grey robe," Jon responded. While he had to admit that he hadn't met many maesters in his life, this man did not look at all like any sort of scholar. Rather, with his nose, which had clearly been broken at least once in his life, and his stained teeth, he looked like a back-alley thug. Though he made no attempt to reach for his sword, Jon did take a step away from Tenten to ensure they both had room to maneuver if it came to a fight.

"The grey robe is a tradition, not a requirement," the man replied unconcernedly. "The chain is all that is necessary, and that is easily concealed when one desires to go about unnoticed," he stated, lifting up the broad swath of cloth that hung from his neck to reveal a chain like the one Maester Luwin wore. "But if you desire further proof of my identity, I can tell you that you are Jon Snow, she is Tenten, and that she hails from a city called Konoha, though I have no idea if I am pronouncing that correctly, given that I have only read the name, never heard it spoken aloud."

"If you've never heard of it, does that mean that you don't know how to find Lady Tenten's home?" Jon asked.

"Let's wait until we are somewhere private before getting into that topic," Marwyn replied gruffly. "For now, are you satisfied that I am who I say I am?"

Jon glanced over at Tenten, who gave a small nod. "Very well. We'll follow you."

"Then come this way," he instructed as he trudged down a side street.

* * *

When he had learned that Jon and Tenten would be traveling to Oldtown, Luwin had taken the opportunity to tell them of the wondrous city. To Tenten's surprise, if anything, the old maester had understated just how impressive it really was. Where King's Landing was a crowded morass of people, a city that had obviously grown faster than anyone expected and, as such, felt congested and disorganized even in the nicer parts (from what little she had seen), Oldtown was a beautiful combination of artistry and function.

Well-made cobblestone roads wove around opulent, brightly colored buildings, and the people who filled the streets were no less brightly colored in their elegant and even flamboyant clothes. Many different styles of dress could be seen, and foreigners abounded, their different skin color a marked contrast from the primarily homogenous appearance of most Westerosi. Delicious-looking fruits could be found in abundance in the small booths that lined the roads near the gates, as well as craftsmen of every trade imaginable. Painters, weavers, stone carvers and carpenters proudly displayed their products, all of a quality that far surpassed anything Tenten had seen in Westeros so far. As the city was built on the many islands at the mouth of the Honeywine river, bridges of stout stone spanned the waterways, often with ornate designs worked into the structure. Fountains and elaborate statues could be found at many intersections, and there was an elegant vibrancy that Tenten had never expected to find in this land.

Rising above it all was the incredible Hightower. From their vantage point on the streets, they couldn't see the base, but the main tower was a sight to behold. The pale stone seemed to subtly change colors each time Tenten looked, sometimes appearing to have a slight blue tint, or pink, or green. Perhaps it had to do with the clouds drifting across the sun, or maybe it was just the different angles she was looking from. Whatever the cause, the effect was majestic. Without chakra, and with very little technology, she could only imagine how long it took these people to build such an extraordinary structure.

Marwyn led them across several bridges, gradually working their way upriver, before stopping at a small gate set into a wall covered with ivy. Removing a black key from his heavy robes, he opened the gate and motioned them inside, then shut and locked it behind them.

"Follow me, and stay quiet," he commanded.

To Tenten's surprise, the strange archmaester led them past a massive weirwood tree where hundreds, if not thousands of ravens perched, and into a tower. Up and up they went, the winding staircase seeming to have no end until they finally arrived at the top. A heavy door of oak and iron greeted them, which Marwyn quickly unlocked and curtly motioned them inside.

"Now, we can talk," the stout man announced as he shut the door.

Tenten took a moment to inspect her surroundings. The room was large and round, with books and scrolls piled high on tables and on the floor. Faded tapestries hung on the walls, interspersed with maps and charts. In one corner, a thick blanket was draped over something tall and narrow that had been placed on a table, concealing it from view entirely. Clearly this was the man's private workroom, and his quarters, as well, she guessed. "Why you try to keep us secret?" she asked.

Marwyn scoffed. "There's no need for such mummery. I know you can speak common almost as well as a native. But to answer your question, it would be best for everyone if the grey sheep here not know of your presence for the time being."

"Grey sheep?" Jon inquired.

"The other archmaesters and their ilk," the archmaester replied, the derision in his voice evident. "They have convinced themselves that they live in a world of order and science. Magic has no place in their vision of reality, and so, they have made it their quest to bring their ideas to life."

The old man smiled, his stained teeth seeming to gleam eerily. "Who do you think it was that killed the dragons? For millennia, the beasts flourished in the Valyrian Freehold. But once they came to Westeros, they died within a few centuries. The world the Citadel is building has no tolerance for magic, or sorcery, or dragons. So, they eliminated them."

"As fascinating as this is, why are you telling us?" Jon's voice was cold. "I doubt the other archmaesters would appreciate us hearing your theories, and I have no intention of being pulled into some conspiracy of the Citadel."

"You're already in the conspiracy. You were pulled in the moment your father accepted her into Winterfell," Marwyn said, pointing at Tenten.

"Why?" Tenten asked, though she thought she knew the answer already.

"Because of how you arrived," came the reply. "I don't know what caused it, or how, but I know that it was magic that brought you here. If I had to guess, I would wager that you came from a completely different world. Does that sound right?"

A great silence filled the room as Tenten considered the man in front of her. "Where I come from, each season only lasts three months. I do not think anyone in my home has heard of winter or summer lasting for years," she finally admitted with a sigh. "I do not know for certain, but I think you are right." She turned to look at Jon. "I am sorry I never told you."

Jon seemed more shocked than bothered by her confession, but to her surprise, he turned his attention to the archmaester. "Does this mean that you won't be able to get her home?"

"I wouldn't have the faintest idea of where to start," the man confessed.

"Then why bring us here?" Tenten demanded.

"For two reasons," the man replied, his heavy brow creasing in thought. "The first is that you need to know about magic. While I do not know why you have been brought to this world, I can guess, though I pray that I am wrong. But, regardless, there are many powers in this world, and it would be foolish to hope that they are unaware of your presence."

"How could they know?" Jon asked, giving voice to the question that was on Tenten's mind as well.

"Magic calls to itself. Those who practice it can sense others when they draw near. And there are other ways," Marwyn said mysteriously. "Come and see."

He led them to the cloth-covered table and removed the shroud to reveal a strange crystal, about three feet tall and no wider than a man's palm. While the sides were smooth in most places there were ridges here and there, and the whole thing seemed to twist strangely as it went up. Though she could not say exactly why, the whole thing just seemed to scream out to Tenten with a strange, pervasive sense of wrongness. "What is that?" she gasped.

"A dragonglass candle, one of the few remaining magical relics of Old Valyria. Through it, the sorcerers of the Freehold could see across mountains, seas and deserts. They could enter a man's dreams and give him visions, and speak to one another half a world apart, seated before their candles." Marwyn's voice had changed, his tone now somber, almost as though he were reliving past memories. "Since long before I was born, the candles have been nothing but oddly shaped pieces of dragonglass. And yet, all that changed nearly a year ago as I was studying them here, and suddenly the glass burst into flame on its own and I found myself staring at a young woman with a strange metal plate on her head, wearing a pink shirt without sleeves and green trousers all alone in a frozen wasteland." His gaze, which had been fixed on some point in the distance, focused on Tenten once more. "Does that sound familiar?"

"You saw me." There was no doubt or question in her voice.

"Aye. And if I did, it's safe to assume that others did as well."

"How many of these candles could there be?" Jon asked.

Marwyn scoffed. "Do you think candles are the only magic still out there, boy? The Faceless Men of Braavos can change their appearance as easily as you might change your shirt. The Warlocks of Qarth drink Shade of the Evening to open their minds and allow them to see into the realm of what might be. The Shadowbinders of Asshai can work all manner of foul magics to kill and enslave. Spellsingers from Sothoryos can enchant the unwary with just their voice, and the most devout of the worshippers of Bakkalon gain eternal youth through blood sacrifices."

Marwyn looked at Jon closely, as though trying to see inside of him. "In an age long past, the Kings of Winter defeated the Warg King and carried his daughters back to Winterfell as prizes, where they were forced to marry into his line. And now, when magic has returned to the world, all the children of House Stark have a direwolf at their side. Perhaps the magic of the Warg King lives once more in you and your half-siblings."

Marwyn turned his attention back to Tenten. "There are other forms of magic out there as well. People who can breathe fire, or walk right up a wall, or across water as though strolling down a well-paved road."

Tenten's eyes narrowed as she stared at the short man who knew far more than she would like. Fortunately, Jon seemed oblivious to the interplay, too focused on the idea that he might be a warg. "And what is the second reason?" she asked.

"Where one comes, others may follow. You have been fortunate to learn our language, and to find people who were willing to show you our ways. If you teach us, we may be able to help should others of your people be brought to our lands."

While Tenten was still quite suspicious of the man, and a little angry at being brought here under false pretenses, she could not deny that both of his points were very valid.

"We will stay for three months," she decided. "You teach me of the magic of this world, and I will teach you of my home, and my language." It shouldn't take long to teach hiragana, though she had no intention of teaching him katakana, let alone kanji. And he would only learn more about chakra over her cold, dead body.

If Jon was surprised by this decision, he didn't show it. "You said that you had a guess as to why Tenten was brought to our world. What is it?"

"You should know the old stories of the North just as well as I," Marwyn countered. "What magical force was said to reside beyond the Wall?"

"You believe in the Others?" Jon's voice was filled with incredulity.

"Magic calls to magic. The candle shows me that there is something moving in the darkness in the far north, though the magic of the Wall makes the visions of what lies beyond distorted and muddled," the mage replied ominously. "Is it the Others, or something else? Some powerful human sorcerer or a fell cult of practitioners? I do not know. But magic grows stronger every day. When the candle first lit, the magic would fade after just a few minutes. Now, I can keep it alight for more than an hour every day. I've used it to monitor your progress. In time, perhaps it will burn permanently."

Privately resolving to ask Jon more about these 'Others', Tenten chose to focus on the current issue. "So, how will these lessons go?"

"In order to keep the boys of the Citadel from being distracted, there are rules preventing women from staying within these walls. You may come as a guest by day, but you must leave each night. Though I suppose you could pretend to be a boy, that has complications of its own," the man replied. "Better for you to reside in the city. Find an inn to stay at, then return here in the morning. If anyone asks, tell them that I offered to pay you to teach me about your homeland. No one will question that. And it has the added advantage of being the truth."

"Paying?" Tenten inquired, one eyebrow raised speculatively.

Marwyn huffed. "I receive a small stipend for expenses such as this. I will pay you one dragon per month. That should be enough to cover your room and board in a decent inn, with a fair amount left over. Furthermore, it will forestall any questions of why you are willing to teach me. If there were no payment, the grey sheep might wonder what you were gaining from our interactions."

"I will not complain about being paid," the kunoichi replied. She wasn't concerned about money (after all, there were always more bandits) but she certainly wasn't going to turn away coin that was offered to her.

"No one ever does," the archmaester affirmed in a sardonic tone.

* * *

Not far from the Citadel, they found a sturdy, two-story inn called 'The Seven Shields' that looked clean and well kept. Tenten almost laughed at the momentary shock and panic in Jon's eyes when she arranged one room for the two of them. And of course, the look he gave her when she ignored his gallant offer to sleep on the floor, instead calmly stating that there was no need as the bed was big enough for them both was just too funny.

Given that it was still only midday, the travelers decided to go out and explore more of Oldtown. The city was a veritable labyrinth of side streets and alleyways, but it was, for the most part, neat and clean. As they came to one street filled with the shops of blacksmiths and other metal workers, Jon frowned.

"I suppose it would be wise to have a smith take a look at my new sword to ensure there are no problems," he remarked thoughtfully as he glanced down at the weapon in question.

Speaking with a few of the guards about which smiths they would recommend, the duo made their way to a smith that seemed to have a good reputation, both for quality of work and for his reasonable prices.

"Master Durn?" Jon called as they entered the shop. The rhythmic clanging in the back room stopped, and a tall, broad man with a wild mane of blonde hair appeared.

"What can I do for you?" the man asked, his voice holding a hint of an accent that neither Tenten nor Jon could place.

"I recently acquired a sword, and I would like to have it inspected to ensure there are no problems," Jon explained as he showed the smith his new weapon.

Durn studied the weapon carefully, even going so far as to tap it with a hammer at some places and gently poke at it with a very finely pointed instrument. "Hmm, blade seems to be of good quality. The hilt, not so much," the man reported. "See here," he pointed to the base of the handle, near the pommel. "The grip is made of wood, and has begun to warp after being exposed to the elements. This will cause it to loosen over time. Not an uncommon problem, but something that should be dealt with sooner rather than later."

The smith continued to study the sword carefully. "The crossguard is beginning to rust, but that could be cleaned off without too much difficulty. I suspect, however, that the rust has spread into the join between the guard and the tang, which means that you will need to clean it more regularly. Or, you could just replace the crossguard. It is narrower than you would normally see on a two-handed sword," he said, frowning disapprovingly. "If I were fixing the grip anyway, fitting a new crossguard wouldn't be too difficult. It would be more expensive, of course, but the additional cost would not be excessive."

Tenten watched carefully as Jon considered his options. A small smile crossed her face as an idea came to mind.

"Leave the crossguard, just fit a new grip," Jon finally decided. Of course, then he had to select what style of grip he wanted, but it didn't take long for him to settle on a simple grip wrapped in black leather with ridges for better handling.

"An attractive yet practical choice, good ser," the smith praised. "I will have it finished within five days."

Jon thanked the man, and they exited the shop and resumed their exploration of the city.

After a few more hours of wandering, Tenten finally made her move.

"I need to buy some supplies from the herbalist's shop," she lied.

Jon's face grew worried. "Herbalist's shop? Are you sick?"

She fixed him with her most 'are you stupid' look. "Jon-kun. I am a woman. Women have certain needs every month."

Her excuse certainly worked with Jon. A tight, almost pained expression crossed his face. "Right, of, of course," he stammered. "I'll just meet you back at the inn."

_Ahh, periods_, she thought with a smirk. _It doesn't matter how brave a man is, even the slightest hint of 'that time of the month' is enough to send him running._

She quickly made her way back to Master Durn's shop. Fortunately, the man was still there, and remembered her. "About that sword my betrothed brought in. I will pay the extra cost for a new crossguard and pommel, and I have something else I'd like to commission as well."

It took some time for her to decide on the style for the modifications to Jon's sword, and even longer for her to explain what she wanted him to make for her, but by the time she left, Tenten was confident that it would be well worth the extra cost. Though the smith had agreed that the sword would be finished as expected, he initially stated that the second part of her purchase would require at least two more weeks. Fortunately, he changed his mind when she offered three dragons if he had her full order ready for her to pick up in nine days.

Not surprisingly, Jon made no inquiries about what had taken so long when she returned to the inn.

* * *

Jon sighed as he finally made it through the gate and out into the countryside. He set off to the east toward the large forest where Ghost spent most of his time, grateful for the opportunity to be alone with his thoughts.

A little more than a week had passed since they first arrived. He spent most of his time with Tenten and the archmaester, though he also made a point of visiting Ghost regularly, since they had decided it would be best for the direwolf to remain outside the city walls. Too many questions would be asked, and too many people would wonder about the massive white wolf and the Stark-like boy he followed.

His time with Tenten… that was a confusing issue, one that caused him no end of uncertainty. To his surprise (and privately, to his delight) his friend had not seemed bothered by the fact that she would likely never be able to return home. Based on her comments, she had already suspected as much, so it made sense, in a way. But still, he would have expected that having confirmation would be difficult, to say the least.

Instead, she seemed as pleasant as ever, perhaps even _more_ pleasant than usual. Or at least, more coquettish. Jon had little experience with such behavior firsthand, given his status as a bastard and his refusal to even consider fathering a bastard of his own. But still, it had to mean something that she had arranged for them to share a bed. She had also insisted that they resume the evening exercises that they had often shared in her quarters. Whereas in Winterfell her clothes had been tight, but still covered most of her body, now, she had taken to wearing a pair of trousers cut off so that it exposed her legs up to the middle of the thigh, and instead of a shirt, she wrapped a long piece of linen tightly around her bosom and shoulders, showing not only the outline of her breasts, but leaving her entire midriff bare. She claimed that it was because of the heat, but Jon wasn't sure he believed her.

Though Jon tried to be respectful and did his best not to stare, he was not always successful. He had no doubt that she noticed, and yet, she said nothing. In fact, at times he thought that he saw what could only be described as a 'satisfied smirk' on her face when he paused for a little too long to admire her figure.

And yet, he was torn. How should he respond?

What complicated matters even further was the current bane of Jon's existence. A newcomer to the Citadel who had arrived just a few days before – Alleras. Jon scowled. The intelligent young man had delicate, almost feminine features that caused the ladies who saw him to swoon. It seemed that even Tenten was not immune, given that she could scarcely take her eyes off him whenever they met. And since Marwyn had immediately taken the new novice under his wing, they 'met' quite a bit.

All this led to the heart of Jon's present dilemma. He could admit to himself that he was jealous of Alleras. Not because of the many young women who seemed to lust after him. No, Alleras could have them all – all except for one. But if Tenten truly was in love with the novice as Jon feared, what should he do? Should he stand aside? There was a part of him that whispered that the choice was hers. It was her heart to give to whomever she chose. And yet, another part railed in defiance. After so long together, so many shared experiences, the bond between them had grown so great that he feared he could never be satisfied with his life without her in it.

But what kind of life could he offer her? He was a bastard and would always be one. But on the other hand, what kind of life could Alleras offer? When he took his vows, the man would be committing to a life of celibacy and sent out to serve some lord in a distant keep, likely to never see his friends or family again.

It was a riddle that seemed to have no answer.

A few hours spent playing with his direwolf, who appeared delighted at his master's presence, served to lift Jon's spirits. It also gave him the perspective he needed to make a decision. He would speak with Tenten. If nothing else, that would allow him to understand what it was that she expected from him.

* * *

Unfortunately for Jon, Tenten was not at the inn when he returned. As he waited for her to arrive, all the doubts and fears of before came back as strong as ever. When the door finally opened, he turned to see her enter holding something long and narrow, wrapped in cloth.

"Jon-kun!" she greeted him cheerfully. "Did you have good time with Ghost?"

"Yes, it was very enjoyable," he replied. "What's that?"

Tenten's smile turned mischievous. "It is a surprise. A gift for your nameday."

Jon froze in shock, trying to count the days in his head before arriving at a startling conclusion. She was correct. Today was his nameday. It was not surprising that he had forgotten. Lady Stark would never have tolerated a celebration of his birth, so most years, his nameday consisted of little more than furtive whispers of good wishes from Robb, Arya and Bran, and Lord Stark somehow looking both pleased and melancholy at the same time.

"How did you know?" he finally asked.

"I asked Ned-sama," she said simply. "Now, your present. It has two parts. First, is this," she said with obvious excitement as she flipped open the bundle she was carrying to reveal a sword. He frowned in confusion before picking it up and studying it closely, realization dawning slowly. No, it wasn't just any sword. It was _his_ sword, that he had taken to the smith when they first arrived, though the man had reported that the task would take longer than initially expected. And now, Jon could see why the extra time had been needed. Tenten had clearly returned to Master Durn and paid for some extra work to be done.

Jon grasped the weapon, moving it around slowly to get a feel for the new grip, and admiring the new crossguard. The highly polished metal gleamed in the dim candlelight. The guard widened near the ends, and kite-shaped chips of black stone, about the size of Jon's thumb, had been carefully set into the steel so that the surfaces were flush with each other. The pommel was similarly decorated, this time with three black triangles. Though the grip was the same simple black leather that he had selected previously, the extra decorations gave the hilt an incredibly elegant and sophisticated look.

He stared at Tenten, who smiled at the awe on his face. "The stone is black tourmaline," she informed him. "It should not require any special treatment. You can polish it same as with regular steel."

"This is… this is…" he stammered.

"That is only half of your present," she interrupted. She pulled aside another fold in the cloth she was carrying to reveal a long, black object with gleaming lines of steel crisscrossing the surface. Though it looked very impressive, Jon had no idea what it was supposed to be.

Jon's confusion must have been evident, for she put the blanket on the bed and grabbed the item. "It is a scabbard for you to wear on your back," she explained. "Many swordsmen in Konoha use a scabbard like this because it is easier to run and move without the sword hanging from your waist." She picked it up, gesturing to the various features. "This strap goes over your shoulder, and this strap goes around your chest to hold the scabbard tight in place. This broader side goes against your back. It helps you to guide the blade into the slot when you sheathe the sword," she said as she mimicked lifting a blade over her head and pressing it against her back.

"Because of the long slit to insert and remove the sword, this kind of scabbard leaves the blade more exposed to the elements, so you will need to polish it more regularly if you keep it in the scabbard all the time," Tenten continued. "The other choice is to mostly use your regular sheath, and only use the back scabbard when you need. Also, the inside of the scabbard will get dirty, so there is an opening at the bottom so you can get a cloth in there to clean it," she said, pointing to the end of the scabbard, which, Jon noted, was left flat rather than coming to a point like most sword covers. Understandable, he realized, given the need for the opening at the bottom.

"Of course, the advantage is that you do not need to clean the blade before sheathing the sword. If the blade still has blood or mud on it, it is not a problem because you can clean the sword and scabbard later. So, it is very good for warriors who do not have time to stop after a fight, but must quickly continue on to next target."

"Warriors like shinobi," Jon said with a smile and just a hint of teasing.

"Exactly," Tenten replied with a similar grin. "Also, it helps to protect your back when you are in combat."

Jon looked at the amazing gifts once more. "Thank you," he said, and was a little embarrassed to realize that the corners of eyes were filling with tears. "I didn't think… I thought that…" he trailed off, not sure how to explain his concerns.

"Jon-kun," Tenten's voice was soft, but filled with emotion. "You are my best friend. Of course I wanted to give you gifts."

"I just thought that, with Alleras, you would…"

"Alleras?" Tenten looked confused.

"I've seen the way you look at him. You can't take your eyes off him," Jon said, hoping that he didn't sound as bitter as he felt.

To his shock, Tenten laughed. "Jon-kun, I think Alleras is a woman," she replied. "But I am not sure. The disguise is very good. That is why I am closely watching."

Jon blinked in confusion as his thoughts stopped as suddenly as if they had run into a wall. "Alleras… is a woman?" he repeated, trying to make sense of the words.

"I think," Tenten emphasized.

"A woman in the Citadel? A woman becoming a maester?" Even Jon could see how large a scandal that would be if discovered.

"I think," Tenten repeated once more, this time a little more firmly.

Mind racing, Jon could only say one thing. "Oh." His friend's fascination with the newcomer was much more understandable now.

He looked over at Tenten, who had an unsure expression on her face, as though she were considering something.

"I have one more present for you," she finally said, her face now looking determined. "But you must close your eyes."

"You've already given me too much," Jon protested, but Tenten was adamant.

"This gift not cost money. Now close your eyes," she instructed.

Jon did as he was told. He almost gasped as he felt her arms around him, pulling his head down, and felt her soft lips brush against his. He did moan softly as she deepened the kiss, her tongue pressing into his mouth to gently caress his own.

He had no idea how much time had passed when Tenten finally pulled back. Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes to see his beautiful, wonderful friend standing there, her sparkling brown eyes seeming to stare into the very depths of his soul.

"Happy nameday, Jon-kun," she whispered.

* * *

Weeks passed, and though they had progressed no further than kissing, both enjoyed this new aspect to their relationship very much. It seemed to Jon as though everything in the world was so much better now. The air was cleaner, the sun was brighter.

Where before, sharing the bed had been somewhat uncomfortable, with Jon always taking care to ensure that he was on the very edge so as not to accidentally touch Tenten during the night, now they snuggled together as they slept. And to his great pleasure, Tenten frequently returned to the room after a bath wearing her somewhat see-through linen shirt without the chest wrap, giving him tantalizing glimpses of the beautiful curves that lay beneath.

Unfortunately, the idyllic, dream-like experience was not to last.

They were just getting ready for bed when harsh pounding on the door drew their attention. Both quickly grabbed their weapons, then Jon opened it just a crack.

Marwyn pushed his way through. "Get dressed," he ordered. "You need to get back to King's Landing immediately. Eddard Stark has been arrested, and I fear a war that will devastate the Seven Kingdoms is on the horizon."

* * *

A/N – If you want a better idea of the design for the back scabbard, search for 'Shadiversity back scabbard' on Youtube. My design isn't quite the same, but it's close. Shad's got a really cool channel, so you should check out his other stuff as well.

I'm trying to come up with a good name for Jon's sword. I'd like it to be something cool sounding that fits Jon's character in this story. Something that alludes back to the Elemental Nations might be a nice way of paying tribute to his best friend/future wife (spoilers! – if you didn't already figure that out) but I'm not sure I like that idea, either. I have some names that I'm kicking around, but I'd like to hear what ideas you all have.

Thanks to reader Shadowwolf1997, who asked about Ghost's absence during the bandit fight. I had originally included a line that Ghost came and went on his own, usually appearing when they stopped for the night, but I mistakenly edited it out at some point. I've added it back in now.

And thank you to reader LrLlak, who pointed out that GRRM's usage of the term 'longsword' doesn't match up with the typical usage. What he calls a longsword is what is properly known as an 'arming sword'. I'm trying to use terms that line up with the Late Medieval period, which matches most closely with Westeros in the books. To give you some rough ideas of size in my story: Arming sword – 30" blade. Bastard sword – 36" blade. Longsword – 42" blade. Great sword (like Ice) – 48"+ blade. Note that these are blade lengths, not the total length of the sword. Bastard sword and up would have a two-handed hilt, somewhere around nine or ten inches. Interestingly enough, one of my history professors in college said that long sword and short sword actually referred to the length of the handle, not the blade (because of the major difference in fighting styles using one hand vs. two hands), but I'm not sure if that's entirely accurate.

Also, while we're on the topic of swords, I forgot to mention earlier about Needle. Jon's reason for giving Arya Needle in canon was that he expected he would never see her again. He was going to the Wall, after all. Here, he's only going to be gone for a few months, so no need for a 'never gonna see you again' present. As such, Needle does not exist right now. Arya was still training with Syrio, but they used wooden practice swords.


	8. Chapter 8: Desperation

Chapter 8: Desperation

The leagues flew by as they raced across the countryside, constantly pushing the horses as fast as they could go. They'd worn their original steeds and remounts to the bone just getting back to Highgarden; fortunately, they had plenty of coin to buy new horses, though they had been forced to disguise themselves as they were not sure whom the Tyrells would be supporting.

Now they were about a day from Bitterbridge, and once more, the horses were on their last legs. Tenten just hoped that they would be able to find new mounts in the town ahead. If not, their pace would slow considerably, which she knew would drive Jon to despair.

She'd tried to gently suggest that they should slow down, if only to ensure that the horses didn't die of exhaustion, but her friend was determined to get back to King's Landing as soon as possible. Tenten glanced to the side to observe Jon, trying to appear casual so that he did not notice her studying him. As always, his face was tense and his hands gripped the reins so tightly his knuckles were white. From the moment they had first heard of what had transpired, Jon had blamed himself for not being there to help his family, and nothing Tenten had said since had convinced him to let go of his self-recriminations.

Unlike their previous journey along this road, there was no discussion, no laughter. Meals were eaten while riding. The only sound was that of the horses' heavy footfalls and labored breathing as they ran.

Hours passed, and night fell.

"Jon, we need to stop. It's getting too dark, and the horses need rest," Tenten finally said, trying to be gentle, but firm.

"We can keep going," the young man tried, but Tenten was insistent.

"We're no good to them dead," she countered. "The road here is rough. If we ride at night, there's a better chance of one of the horses stepping wrong and breaking a leg or throwing one of us. We'll be back in the saddle at first light, but for now, we need to stop."

Thankfully, Jon was willing to acknowledge her point, and they allowed the horses to walk for a short time before finally stopping altogether.

Even as they unpacked their bedrolls, Tenten caught Jon staring northeast toward King's Landing. Walking over to her friend, she wrapped her arms around him, pressing up against his back and leaning her head on his shoulder. "They'll be fine," she promised softly. "We'll get there in time to rescue them, and they'll all be fine. Now come to bed." Her hand found his, and she gently pulled him back toward their small camp.

* * *

As expected, they resumed their journey the next morning as soon as the sky began to grow light, even before the sun was visible over the horizon. Jon's horse collapsed shortly before noon, refusing to move no matter how hard he spurred it, so they had to stop and transfer the gear from his remount to Tenten's to avoid overburdening the spare horse before once more setting off, leaving the exhausted animal behind. Not for the first time, Tenten considered if it might be better for her to run alongside the horse, but rejected the idea, just as she had in the past. It wouldn't increase their speed by much (if at all) and would leave her tired and more vulnerable if they were attacked. Given how hard Jon had been pushing himself, and how little sleep he got even when they stopped each night, she doubted that he would be fighting at peak condition, so it was important that she stay combat ready.

The sun was beginning to set when the town finally came into view. The land in this area was largely flat with few, if any trees, allowing a person to see for a league or more without difficulty. The castle was easily visible, the keep protruding above the horizon to create a silhouette against the deep blue of the sky.

Unfortunately, as they drew closer, Tenten realized that something was wrong. There were soldiers guarding the bridge, checking each person as they passed.

Glancing over at her friend, she was pleased to see that Jon had noticed them as well.

"We could try to ford the river," she suggested softly as they dismounted in the town out of sight of the bridge.

"No, the horses are too tired. They wouldn't make it." Jon looked as though the admission caused him physical pain. "We'll just have to cross the bridge. We don't know who they're watching for. It might not be us."

"We should go one at a time," Tenten said. "Even if they are searching for us, the soldiers don't know what we look like. It could be that they are just looking for a young man and woman traveling together."

Jon nodded, and Tenten began to lead her horse and remount toward the worn stone bridge, trying to match the pace and behavior of the other travelers, though inside she was lamenting the fact that her rather masculine clothes made her stand out. Still, she passed the guards without incident.

Jon, however, was not so lucky.

* * *

Despite the overwhelming desire to draw his sword and cut down this fancily dressed fool, Jon forced himself to stay calm. Of course, that was really the only option he had, given the fact that Tenten had a firm grip on his right hand, which made it impossible for him to grab the sword at all.

"I did my best to rescue your father," Renly Baratheon tried to explain, "but there were too many Lannister guards, and they had gained the support of the Goldcloaks as well. The only option was to pull back, but I promise you that I will return to King's Landing with an army to see the Lannisters punished for their crimes. Your father will be avenged, I swear it."

Those words might have sounded impressive to someone else, but to Jon's ear, Renly's excuses rang hollow. _If he even tried to rescue Father, I'll eat my boots._ Still, there wasn't much he could do, surrounded as they were by Renly's guards. All he could do was hope that Tenten's quickly whispered, "Trust me," meant that she had some sort of plan.

"In the meantime, please, join me in enjoying the hospitality of Lord Caswell, and on the morrow we can depart for Highgarden to arrange for the support of the Reach," Renly said, his 'request' sounding more like a command.

Jon opened his mouth to refuse but said nothing when Tenten squeezed his hand hard.

"Lord Renry is very kind," Tenten said with a smile. "We grateful."

"Excellent," Renly replied jovially, either unaware or uncaring of Jon's reluctance. "Come, let's get you some food and then you can enjoy comfortable beds. I'll ask the servants to arrange for rooms near each other."

"No need," Tenten said quickly, pushing herself closer to Jon. "We share room."

"Ah, in that case, my congratulations," Renly said quickly. "You're a lucky man, Jon, she's a true beauty."

Jon tried to smile, though he was afraid it came out more like a grimace.

* * *

If Lorent Caswell had any objection to hosting a bastard and a foreign woman, the young lord hid it well. A delicious meal was served and hot baths prepared for the weary travelers. Tenten was just thankful that Jon was willing to follow her lead, though she could see that he was growing frustrated with the delay. The duo couldn't discuss their course of action as there were servants following them everywhere, supposedly to attend to their needs, but Tenten knew they were more like minders, and would quickly report any indication that their charges intended to leave.

Finally, they were alone in their room. Tenten quickly stripped out of her clothes, ignoring Jon's shocked expression as she pulled him into a hug. Pressing her mouth to his ear, she whispered, "I think they are watching. Play along for now." She pulled him over to the bed, snuggling up against him after they were under the covers.

"We're not going to Highgarden, right?" Jon asked, his voice so soft it was almost inaudible.

"Of course not," she replied just as quietly. "But Renly has many guards. If they know we intend to leave, they will try to stop us. I think we could escape, but there is a chance we would be injured. This way, we got a good meal. We will disappear early in the morning before anyone else is awake."

She could feel the tension leave Jon's body at these words. "Go to sleep, Jon-kun," she whispered, reaching up to gently caress his face. "I will wake you when the time comes."

* * *

Though the night sky was filled with clouds and the moon was far from full, Jon ran confidently across the ground, the easy lope slowing to a careful prowl as he drew near to the strange wooden caves the two-legged ones used. There was plenty of prey nearby, but he and his siblings had been taught not to hunt the animals raised by the two-legs, so he turned his attention to the smaller creatures in the wide plains. They were more difficult to hunt, being not only quick, but so small that they had very little meat on them, but that would not stop him.

He had just finished eating a ferret and was trotting toward the river for a drink when the whole world suddenly trembled. Startled, he blinked, only to find himself staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling.

"Jon-kun?"

He turned to see Tenten looking at him, though it was far too dark to see her features. He sat up, confused. _What just happened?_

"Are you alright?" she asked softly, one hand rubbing his back gently. "You wouldn't wake up, you were sleeping so deeply. I had to shake you very hard."

"I…" his voice trailed off as he realized that he didn't have an answer. "It was just a dream," he finally said. "Just a strange dream."

"We should go. There is still a few hours before dawn. We can go several miles before they know we are missing."

"Right," Jon agreed. "Do you really think we can sneak out without anyone noticing?" he asked, looking skeptically at the door.

"Not through the door. We can go out the window," she replied, gesturing.

Though they had left their saddles with the horses in the stable, they had brought their saddlebags, which held all their possessions, up to the room with them. Jon watched as Tenten grabbed a coil of rope, quickly unwinding it and passing one end underneath the bed behind one sturdy leg, feeding about half of the length through. He opened the window slowly, careful not to make a sound. While the opening was not large, there was enough room for him to squeeze through.

Tenten tied the saddlebags to one end of the rope, then quickly lowered them to the ground. "You should go first. I will hold the bed just to make sure it does not move," she whispered.

Nodding, Jon grabbed both halves of the rope, getting a firm grip before climbing out of the window. It was difficult, and took him a few tries to figure it out, but eventually he had his feet up against the wall and slowly began to climb down. Finally, he reached the bottom, where he retrieved the saddlebags. The rope shook, and he looked up to see Tenten climbing swiftly down. She dropped to the ground beside him, then pulled one end of the rope until the whole thing was free, the other end falling in a pile.

"Do you think we can get the horses?" Jon asked quietly.

Tenten shook her head, barely visible in the dim moonlight. "No, we won't be able to open the gate. We'll climb down the wall. We can find horses later."

Looking around, Jon could make out a few guards standing watch on the wall, making him grateful for the dark night that allowed them to move about undetected. They cautiously ascended the stone staircase to the battlement, Tenten carrying the rope while Jon handled the saddlebags. The guards were stationary, and it was clear that they were not expecting any sort of attack, so they were hardly paying any attention at all. Moving quickly, Tenten grabbed the middle of the rope and tossed the ends off the wall on either side of the merlon in front of them.

"You first," she whispered. "I will bring saddlebags."

Grabbing both parts of the rope was difficult given the width of the merlon, but Jon eventually managed, climbing up into the crenel and slowly lowering himself to the ground below.

Fortunately, there was no moat at the bottom. Jon crouched in the deep shadow of the wall, waiting for his friend to join him. Soon enough Tenten was next to him, quickly coiling the rope and placing it in the saddlebag.

"We'll find horses later. We should go on foot for now," she said, still keeping her voice down.

Though Jon was still a bit skeptical about their chances of obtaining horses after they left the small town, he knew that they couldn't afford to try to steal any now. It would take time to find the saddles, bridles and other tack, and every moment they spent increased the chance of discovery.

"Give me one of the saddlebags," he whispered.

"I can carry them," she replied. "I am the faster runner. Wouldn't want to slow you down."

Jon scowled at the teasing tone in her voice. Though he couldn't see her face, he knew she was smirking. Still, she did have a point. Any time they exercised together, her stamina far exceeded his own. Looking up, he saw a large cloud pass in front of the moon.

"Let's go."

They scurried quickly to the village, then crept quietly through the maze of buildings until they reached the outskirts near the road. Straightening up, they increased their pace, settling into a steady jog as the few lights visible in the castle faded into the night.

* * *

As much as it stung at his pride, Jon had to admit that he was glad that Tenten had insisted on carrying the saddlebags. Even though they had slowed to a brisk walk some time ago, his legs burned, though at least he wasn't gasping for air anymore.

He glanced over at his friend and felt a fleeting spike of jealousy. Tenten was hardly sweating and looked as though she could continue like this all day. Unfortunately, he knew that he would not be able to do likewise. They would need horses soon, or he would slow them down drastically. Without horses… he suppressed that thought with a sigh. He was about to suggest that Tenten leave him behind and run ahead when she suddenly stopped. Surprised, Jon realized that his companion was now looking behind them.

"Jon-kun, hide in the trees," she said, handing him the saddlebags and gesturing to a small grove a dozen paces or so from the road.

Looking back, he could see a band of riders approaching, though they were still too far away to see clearly. Too tired to protest, he simply followed the kunoichi's instructions, secreting himself behind a small bush that would shield him from view but still allow him to keep watch on the road.

The riders were pushing their horses hard. Just a few minutes later, they pulled even with Tenten, who, Jon was astonished to see, waved cheerfully at the approaching men.

"Greetings!" she called, once more exaggerating her accent.

There were eight of them, all clad in the white and yellow of House Caswell.

"Where is the boy?" the leader demanded, dismounting and stomping over to the kunoichi.

"What?" Tenten asked loudly.

"Where is the boy?"

Tenten shook her head. "Your words. I not understand."

"Where is the boy?" the man asked again, saying the words louder and slower.

Tenten shrugged, and Jon suppressed an urge to laugh at the furious expression on the man's face.

"You need to come with us to Lord Renly," the man ordered.

Tenten frowned as though deep in thought, then her expression changed into a broad grin as though she finally understood. "Ah, Renry," she said, nodding her head. The captain looked relieved, but his good mood faded when Tenten pointed back down the way they had come. "Renry," she said with a smile.

"Yes, Lord Renly is that way," the man said, glaring at one of the men who had hastily turned his laugh into a cough.

"Renry," Tenten repeated, this time giving him a little push and an encouraging nod as she pointed. Several of the men were laughing now. Jon struggled to keep from joining them.

"No, I know where Lord Renly is," the captain shouted furiously. "You need to come with me."

Tenten just gave him a questioning look.

Muttering imprecations, the man reached out to grab her, but Tenten danced just out of reach, an expression of confusion once more on her face. He tried again, with no more success. "Grab her," he ordered, and the rest of the soldiers dismounted. But as Jon well knew, when Tenten wanted she could move like a leaf on the wind. She dodged this way and that, skillfully evading the hands of the six men who were chasing her, gradually leading them away from the two who had remained with the horses.

And then she struck.

Moving so fast she seemed to blur, Tenten lashed out, her fists and feet swiftly knocking the men unconscious. The two soldiers holding the horses had barely enough time to reach frantically for the swords at their waists before the kunoichi was upon them. Neither had fully drawn their weapon when Tenten reached them and they joined their fellows in oblivion on the ground.

Jon watched as Tenten quickly seized the reins of several of the panicking horses, then turned to look at where he was still hiding.

"Jon-kun! Found horses!" she called out cheerfully.

* * *

They left the men with most of their possessions, though Tenten did insist on taking a full helm from one of the soldiers, on the grounds that they would need it to hide Jon's obviously Stark features. Soon enough, they were once more dashing across the countryside, any chance of pursuit fading fast as the leagues sped by.

The horses panicked briefly when Ghost appeared for the night, but Jon (who was much better with horses than she was) managed to calm them eventually.

A few days later, they were back in the Kingswood. There was an undercurrent of anticipation now that they were so close, but there was apprehension as well. Marwyn had not been able to tell them much about what had happened, as he was limited in that he could only see what was happening in the present. All the archmaester had known was that all of the Starks were alive, though Ned was being held in the infamous black cells.

The road was much rougher in the thick forest, forcing them to go slower, a fact for which the horses were no doubt grateful. Still, they pushed hard, making excellent time until they finally found themselves in one of the small farming villages that dotted the land between the Kingswood and the Blackwater.

King's Landing was just a league or two to the north.

* * *

"The guards are looking for someone," Jon commented as they carefully watched the gate from afar. "They don't pay much attention to the people going in, but they search everyone going out."

"That makes it easier for us for now, but might cause problems after we rescue your family." Tenten thought for a moment. "But there has to be another way out of the Red Keep. One of the main dangers of a castle is being trapped inside. I would guess that there are secret passages leading out in case of a siege, but they'd be very difficult for us to find from out here. We might have a better chance of finding them from inside the castle, but if they're well hidden, that still might not work."

They returned to their small camp, carefully hidden in an unremarkable hollow along the seashore where the poor ground prevented farming, but the sharp rocks jutting up out of the shallows made it difficult for boats to approach. Night fell, and as usual, Ghost emerged silently out of the darkness. To their surprise, however, he did not come alone.

"Nymeria!" Jon exclaimed softly.

Tenten studied the large wolf carefully. Jon was right; it was certainly her. But there was something different about her- and not just because of the serious looking wounds along her back and sides, a testament to the difficulty she must have faced in escaping the capitol. No, there was something else. Something that Tenten couldn't quite put her finger on.

Still, the fact that Arya's wolf was alive was a good sign. Perhaps its owner had managed to escape as well.

Glancing once more at the wolf, Tenten took a deep breath. It was finally time to tell Jon the truth. But how to begin?

"Jon-kun? You remember when you asked what is the difference between a shinobi and a normal man at arms? I did not tell you everything, before…"

* * *

Mind whirling, Jon struggled to make sense of the staggering secret that his best friend had revealed.

"Magic?" he echoed weakly.

Tenten shrugged. "We call it chakra, but you would probably say magic. It lets me walk up walls or over water."

"And breathe fire," he added, amazement coloring his words. He would never forget that particular demonstration.

"And breathe fire," she repeated. "But I am not as good at elemental jutsu as some in Konoha. I fight mostly with weapons."

A distant memory bubbled to the surface. "That's what Marwyn was talking about," he realized. "He mentioned that people could use magic to climb walls or walk on water. He was talking about you."

"Mm," Tenten agreed, nodding her head. "He must have seen me in his candles. I did not want to talk about it before in case someone overheard, but you deserve to know the truth."

"And you think you can use this chakra to rescue my family?" Jon pressed.

Tenten nodded somberly. "There is one other skill I have not shown you yet. We call it _henge_. It means… change yourself. See." She brought her hands together, her fingers forming a peculiar sign, and a small cloud of smoke appeared, covering her from view for just a moment. When the smoke cleared, Jon found himself staring into his own face.

Mouth wide open in shock, Jon couldn't find any words to express the sheer astonishment he felt. His surprise must have been easily visible, for his friend smiled and winked at him, then, with another cloud of smoke, regained her normal appearance.

"It has limits," she explained, "and is best to use with the appearance of someone with a similar body. But using _henge_ I should be able to sneak into castle to learn what happened. Then, we can make plans to rescue your family."

Neither noticed Nymeria watching them intently.

* * *

Tenten stole quietly down the streets, looking around timidly to match the waif-like peasant girl visage she had created. Very few people paid her a second glance, especially not her target.

Infiltrating the Red Keep had been a simple task. Unfortunately, all that she had learned was that Sansa and Bran were being held in the Tower of the Hand, Ned-sama was in the black cells, and Arya was missing. She needed more intel, but she didn't want to draw attention to herself by trying to get close enough to any of the key players who had the information she needed.

Fortunately, there were other ways to obtain knowledge, though she doubted that Jon or Ned-sama would approve. Despite all their conversations about Konoha, she'd never mentioned to either that not only was torture permitted among the shinobi, but they had an entire department with people trained to do just that. And while Tenten had never considered working for T&I, you couldn't serve in the Shinobi Corps without picking up a few tricks.

Tenten grinned inside as her target, a stout, balding man with heavy cheeks entered a nearby tavern, though no sign of her joy showed on her face. _A few drinks to dull his senses, and he won't put up any resistance._

Glancing around casually to ensure that she wasn't being watched, she darted down a side alley and quickly rearranged her clothes. Fixing an image firmly in her mind, she gathered her chakra, concentrating to ensure that the telltale smoke cloud was as small as possible.

A young, redheaded woman with a petulant mouth and a nose that was just a touch too large exited the alley and sashayed over to the tavern. All eyes turned to look as she entered, many of them taking the time to rake over her body, staring appreciatively at the large swaths of skin she was unashamedly displaying.

Fortunately, the fancy black and gold clothing her target wore made him easy to spot in the mostly drab common room. "Greetings, my Lord," she all but whispered as she approached, leaning over to ensure he had a good view of her still somewhat small breasts.

The man didn't reply verbally, but it was clear that he was interested in what she was supposedly offering.

Tenten reached down, placing a delicate hand on the man's leg and began to rub it, gradually moving her hand closer and closer to his groin. Just before reaching her objective, she pulled her hand back and sat in the man's lap, eyes staring salaciously into his. Judging by the hard protrusion she could feel pressing against her thigh, she undoubtedly had his attention.

"Can I offer you my services, my Lord?" she asked quietly, leaning forward to press her chest against his. It was rumored among the kunoichi that those who engaged in honeytraps like this were taught special jutsu to draw their target's attention and heighten their arousal to cloud their senses, but such tricks were obviously not needed here. "It will be like nothing you have ever experienced, and you need only pay me what you think it was worth," she added, licking her lips seductively and shifting slightly on his lap to rub against his erection.

Tenten barely managed to refrain from rolling her eyes as her victim's frog-like face widened into a grin and he began to paw at her chest. "Come, my Lord," she whispered as she stood, taking him by the hand and leading him out the back.

Before the door was even closed, the man was once more upon her, pushing her back against the wall and reaching for the short skirt wrapped around her hips. That was as far as he got before Tenten clubbed him into unconsciousness.

_Too easy._

* * *

Janos Slynt awoke with a muffled curse, wondering why his head hurt so much. Looking around, he tried to remember where he was. The last thing he remembered was some young, pretty cunt approaching him, and then… He shook his head, trying to clear it so he could remember what came next.

Strange pressure on his wrists drew his attention, and he looked over to see that he had been tied to a bed. Confused, he glanced down and was horrified to discover that he was naked.

"Good, you're awake," a female voice said. He turned to see an attractive slip of a girl with brown hair staring at him. And while he normally enjoyed the idea of women seeing his cock, especially young ones, there was a predatory gleam in this girl's eyes that made him want to cower instead.

"You have no idea who I am, do you?" he tried. "I'm Janos Slynt. The… the Lord of Harrenhal. A friend of the King! You won't get away with this." Unfortunately, the break in his voice at the end betrayed the terror he felt.

"Joffrey will not care. And the other nobles, they hate you. You have fancy new clothes, but they whisper behind your back that you are not one of them. No one will save you."

The girl walked a little closer, and now Janos could see an oddly shaped, heavy-looking dagger in her hand.

"I am going to ask you questions," the terrifying young woman continued. "If you tell me what I want to know, you will go free. If not, I will start cutting. I will start with your toes," she said, holding the dagger with one finger through the ring at the pommel, dangling it so that it brushed against his feet, then began to slowly slide the blade up his leg, then over to one hand. "If you still will not talk, I will cut of your fingers." The blade slid back over to his torso, trailing down the center of his stomach until he felt the cold iron on his manhood. "And if you still will not answer my questions, I will cut off your cock." She frowned as she looked at his groin. "Though it will not be much of a loss, because it is very small," she added, almost conversationally, and despite himself, Slynt couldn't help but feel outrage at being mocked.

Her eyes once more met his, and she smiled cruelly. "So, the choice is yours. Will you talk, or will you scream?"

When put like that, there was only one choice.

* * *

Hours passed, and Tenten was once more struck by how weak these Westerosi were at times. _No shinobi would have broken so easily, would they? _Regardless, she was grateful that Slynt had been so willing to give her the information she needed. Just the threat had been enough to keep him talking for hours, until his throat was so hoarse that he could barely speak. Of course, the experience had been far from pleasant for them both, given that the cowardly man had lost control of his bowels the first time she had accused him of lying to her.

But finally, Tenten decided that she had learned all that she needed to know. "You can stop talking," she said, and the man fell silent, still staring at her with horror in his eyes.

"Will you let me go now?" he asked, lips trembling.

"I promised I would set you free," she replied with a smile, then brought the kunai up with a flourish, then placed it against his neck.

"And only dead men are free," she finished in a haunting whisper.

* * *

Jon paced back and forth in the small room in the inn they had found near the Street of the Sisters. A sigh of relief escaped his lips as the door opened and Tenten entered softly and he rushed over, gathering her in his arms. "I was worried," he admitted. "You were gone for so long."

"I got the information we need," she said with a small smile, then began to relay what she had learned.

When she had finally finished, he was staring in amazement. "You were able to learn all that just by wandering about in the Red Keep?"

Tenten sighed, looking away for a minute before responding. "No," she admitted. "I told you I would not lie to you. I did not get the information by spying." She turned back, eyes gazing directly into his. "I captured the Goldcloak commander who betrayed your father and threatened to torture him if he did not tell me."

From some of the stories she had told him, Jon knew that his friend had been raised with a sense of honor that differed greatly from what he had been raised to believe. Shinobi were trained to complete their assigned mission using whatever means necessary. Jon, however, was not a trained shinobi, and a part of him was horrified at what she had done. Beating someone for information was one thing, but outright torture? And yet, he knew that she had done it for him. She had done it because it was the best course of action to rescue his family.

"Thank you," he said softly as he leaned forward to embrace her.

* * *

"We can begin looking for Arya tomorrow," Tenten said, looking over at Jon. She could see the tension in his body, could almost taste the anguish that he felt at being so close, but still unable to do anything to save his family. While they could rescue Sansa and Bran easily, and even freeing Ned-sama would not be too much more difficult, they would be detected and forced to flee as soon as they did. They needed to find Arya first, but not knowing how long that would take was wearing down on her friend.

Jon made no response to her words, instead staring out the window into the dark night, gazing south toward the Kingswood where they had left Ghost and Nymeria.

"Come to bed, Jon-kun. You need to sleep," she said as she gently grasped his hand.

"I can't," Jon replied softly. "I can't. I can't just sleep while we're stuck here, so close, but with Father and my siblings still being held by those monsters." His voice, which had grown louder as he spoke, dropped off to just a whisper as he continued. "I should have been here."

"Then you would have died, too," Tenten countered firmly. "You're alive, and we will rescue them."

"I know that in my mind," Jon said. "But it doesn't change how I feel. I just can't…" his voice trailed off.

_Well, then, time for plan B_, she thought. "Then what you need is something to take your mind off of it," she said softly as she stepped in front of him and pressed her lips against his.

* * *

After the many weeks they had spent together in Oldtown, Jon was no stranger to kissing Tenten. And yet, this time, there was something different to it. He could feel the stress and frustration that had been weighing him down for a month melt away, replaced by the familiar yearning for his female friend.

All too soon, Jon felt Tenten pull back, and he could not help the small swell of disappointment he felt at the realization that their intimate moment had ended so quickly. And yet, there was a soft rustling noise that Jon did not recognize.

He opened his eyes just as Tenten finished pulling her shirt over her head, and he found himself admiring her bosom, pale in the dim moonlight entering through the open window. His breath caught as her hands found his and gently pulled them to her chest, guiding his fingers across her soft breasts.

"We shouldn't," he said softly. Reluctantly.

"If you don't want to, we don't have to," Tenten replied, her voice no louder than his. "But you need to relax. And this is the best way."

She let go of his hands, but he made no effort to move them. Instead, he began to gently rub her nipples with his thumbs, a thrill running up his spine as she closed her eyes and moaned softly.

He could feel her working at his pants, and soon her soft hands closed around his manhood, gently stroking it as she pressed her lips to his once more.

Their kiss deepened, and Jon felt Tenten take one of his hands and slide it slowly down her body until he could feel the soft hair just above her folds.

She ended the kiss once more, and Jon found himself staring into her sparkling brown eyes. "I love you, Jon-kun. Let me help you," she whispered, her voice warm and inviting.

And Jon finally surrendered to his desires.


	9. Chapter 9: Rescue Part 1

Chapter 9: Rescue Part 1

The sun was just barely visible on the horizon, casting streams of light through the cracks in the shutters on the window when Tenten awoke. As always, she came to full consciousness almost immediately, quickly assessing her surroundings, only relaxing when she had confirmed that all was as she expected. She glanced down at Jon, pleased to see that he looked calm and peaceful in his sleep.

_Well, at least I know one way to get him to relax_, she thought with fond exasperation. It may not have been the romantic first time that every girl dreamed of, but she had no regrets. She truly did love Jon.

As though he had somehow heard this thought, her lover began to stir. A moment later, his eyelids fluttered opened, grey eyes locking onto brown.

"_Ohay__ō_, Jon-kun," Tenten said, smiling gently.

To her surprise, Jon did not return the greeting. Instead, he bolted upright, panic on his face. "Lady Tenten, I… I…" His voice trailed off as he stared at her in horror.

"You what?" Tenten inquired, though she had a pretty good idea what he was trying to say.

"I… dishonored you," he replied, his voice full of despair.

"I think we dishonored each other," Tenten replied with a shrug.

Jon, however, was clearly not in any state of mind to be so casually deterred from his self-castigation. "I shouldn't have… You don't… I…"

"Jon-kun!" Tenten half-shouted, grabbing him by the shoulders. Finally, he calmed down enough to at least look at her. "Do you love me?"

"Of course," the young man replied instantly, as though shocked that she needed to ask.

"And I love you," she replied gently. "So where is the dishonor?" As Jon struggled to find an answer, Tenten slowly brought her mouth to his, silencing all protests with a passionate kiss, their naked bodies pressing together.

"I never wanted to risk having a bastard," Jon whispered when they finally drew apart.

"And there is no worry about that now," she assured him. "After we finished, I used a _jutsu_, it makes it so that I cannot…" Tenten frowned. Not surprisingly, anti-pregnancy jutsus hadn't been on the list of vocabulary that she had been learning. "I cannot carry child until we want. So, no bastard."

"I still should have waited. I shouldn't have pressured you."

At this comment, Tenten couldn't help the incredulous look she gave her lover. "You did not pressure me. I seduced you," she stated flatly. _And speaking of…_ the kunoichi's expression turned tempting as she ran a hand down her body, taking a moment to toy with one nipple, erect in the cool morning air. "It is too early to look for Arya now. We have an hour or so before we should leave." Glancing down, she was pleased to see that her actions were having the desired effect on Jon. "What shall we do to pass the time?" she asked in a soft voice, leaning toward him as she extended a hand to grasp the rapidly hardening length between his legs.

Jon had nothing more to say on the matter, instead allowing his actions to speak for him, to Tenten's delight.

* * *

Arya woke up cold and hungry. Unfortunately, that was not at all out of the ordinary these days. Weeks had passed since the Lannisters had attacked and Syrio had died defending her. She had sent Nymeria to go find her brother and friend down at the Maester's Citadel, but she had no idea how long that would take. She had dreamed once of Jon and Tenten, that they had somehow made it to King's Landing. It had seemed so real – if you ignored the part about Tenten doing magic, of course. But still, it gave the young girl hope. And though hope wasn't as good as a warm bed and a full belly, it was better than nothing.

Her stomach rumbled loudly as she stood, patting her pocket where the familiar, comforting weight of the hairsticks her parents gave her rested. At least she wasn't defenseless. She'd proven that before, though she did her best to push that thought out of her mind. She had no desire to remember the stable boy on the ground, her silver hairstick protruding out of his eye, just like Tenten had told her.

She needed food. She'd tried trading pigeons or rats, but nobody wanted that sort of meat. At least, nobody outside of the rough parts of town, but she knew she wasn't safe there. She'd entered, doing her best to remain unseen, but had been chased by people, probably wanting her boots or her cloak, which were of a much higher quality than anything the denizens of Fleabottom wore.

Deep down, she knew that it would be smarter for her to abandon what few possessions she had that might mark her as the missing daughter of Lord Stark, whom all of the goldcloaks and Lannister men-at-arms were undoubtedly looking for. But she just couldn't bring herself to throw away one of the last links to her family.

With a sigh, Arya began to walk. That was better than just staying in one place, hungry and miserable. She didn't dare go in the richer areas of King's Landing, but there were plenty of places where the goldcloaks rarely patrolled.

She'd heard some of the other children talking recently about a lady that gave out food to hungry children in the poor parts of the city. Maybe if she found this lady, Arya could fill her stomach, if only for a day. Of course, it could be a trap. After all, nobody gave out food to children for nothing. But it wouldn't hurt to just look. It may not be the best idea, but with the pain of her empty stomach driving her on, she couldn't think of anything else.

She didn't dare speak to the other children. When she'd tried, they'd looked at her suspiciously, probably because she didn't talk like them. But she'd learned to watch them closely without being noticed.

Arya wandered the streets, keeping an eye out for any children like her with food. It was as she was just about to give up that she finally saw a young boy with no shoes wearing little more than rags, but he was carrying a large piece of bread.

A little further down the street, she spied another child, this one likely a girl, though she was still so young that it was difficult to tell. More importantly, she held an apple. Arya couldn't help but lick her lips at the sight.

She followed the trail of children with food until she found herself entering Cobbler's Square. As one of the more prosperous areas that was also about as far from the Red Keep as you could get, Arya had come here several times. She'd been lucky enough to find some unwatched food a few times, though there had been some close calls.

To her surprise, a large crowd had gathered in the square. It was only when she finally drew closer that she was able to see what the people were watching.

There was a young woman in the center of the throng, wearing clothing that would likely have had Septa Mordane staring in horror, then rushing to cover the eyes of her young charges. More remarkable, however, was the fact that the young woman was performing, doing tricks like some sort of tumbler.

The silk she wore flashed in the afternoon sun as the performer did an intricate series of flips and other maneuvers that Arya had no words for, even pausing at one point standing perfectly on her hands, then slowly spreading her legs until they were perfectly horizontal.

A loud roar of shock intermixed with cheers sounded from the crowd as the tumbler brought her hand to her mouth, then tipped her head back and shot a mighty spurt of flame straight up into the air. Then, as she did a flip over what appeared to be a small cauldron, the performer snatched up four brightly colored balls and began to juggle them. The onlookers began to applaud as the balls flew ever higher, weaving through the air in more and more intricate designs.

Eventually, the juggler caught the balls, two in each hand, and bowed, her arms held out to the sides as she acknowledged the crowd's enthusiastic shouts.

"All children, come," she called out as she straightened, her speech heavily accented. "Food for children. The gift of Lys, and gift of the Mother. Who can give money, please give, to buy more food to feed hungry children," she added as she gestured to a small pot near her feet where several people were already tossing coins.

A guard in a steel helmet and leather armor appeared holding a large basket filled with bread and fruit. "Food for children," the performer called once more, turning around to look at those behind her.

And as the woman's face came into view, Arya could not help but gasp. It was all she could do not to fall to her knees crying out of relief. Though she had painted her cheeks with red markings, there was no mistaking the entertainer in the middle of the square.

It was Tenten.

* * *

Jon forced himself to focus on the crowd gathered in the square, and not on the beautiful woman at the center of their attention, no matter how great the temptation. Though it had been more than a week since they had first made love, he never tired of the sight of her skin, so smooth and enticing.

Unfortunately, he wasn't the only male in the area to think so, and he had to restrain himself from attacking those men whose gazes were more than a little lecherous. Fortunately, the full helm he wore to hide his obviously Stark-like appearance meant that nobody could tell if he glared at them.

He still wasn't sure why exactly Tenten had to dress like a… sort of young woman that Lys was famous for. She had explained it to him, of course, but that explanation had been given while she was working on the flimsy silk covering that shielded her beautiful bosom from view, though it left her back almost entirely bare, not to mention her taut stomach. Because she had needed to try the revealing garment on several times to ensure that it fit, she had done the needlework with her breasts completely bare to Jon's gaze, and the entrancing way that they tended to gently bounce and quiver as she worked had quite eliminated any hope of him paying attention to anything else.

There had been something about giving the guards an obvious explanation for who they were and why they were there, as well as playing to the Westerosi tendency to ignore and dismiss foreigners. Or something to that effect. Jon thought he also remembered Tenten making a comment about most men being unable to think with their upper brain once their lower one was paying attention, but he hadn't understood that comment. She'd pointed to him while saying that, which just added to his confusion. Whatever the full reason, it apparently worked. They passed dozens of goldcloaks every day, and none of them gave the pair a second glance.

Well, not a suspicious second glance. Tenten got plenty of long, leering looks, which made Jon want to punch the men staring at his lover, but he supposed it was better for them to look with lust rather than wariness.

The idea of handing out food to children was a good one, he thought. Arya was alone in a strange city, and likely to be very hungry. Hopefully, the prospect of free food would draw her to them. However, as the days passed with no sign of his half-sister, Jon was beginning to lose hope.

As they had planned, Jon gathered the coins from the pot and went to purchase more food while Tenten began a new routine. By now, none of the hawkers selling their wares were at all suspicious when he came through, none of them so much as batting an eye at his rather poor attempt to mimic Tenten's exaggerated accent. It was almost certain that none of them had ever met someone from Lys, so they had no way of knowing if his manner of speech was correct or not.

He quickly filled the large basket with a variety of foods and began to make his way back to Cobbler's Square, one hand holding the basket, the either gripping tightly onto his spear. He would have preferred a sword, but the spear gave him a more foreign appearance, and after so long practicing quarterstaffs with Tenten, he was confident that he could defend himself if someone were foolish enough to attack him.

His timing was just right, with Tenten finishing her juggling tricks as he began to push through the crowd toward the center of the square. He gently placed the food at her feet, then took up his usual pose nearby, spear held out with the butt on the ground, completely unmoving save for his head, which swept over the crowd, carefully examining every child who came near. If he were honest, he doubted that this would be the day that they found Arya.

It was just as this thought passed through his mind that he saw her.

There were tears in her eyes as she approached, seemingly unable to tear her gaze away from Tenten. Though Jon was relieved to see her, he silently urged her to just take some food and leave for now. If she gave any indication that she knew them, people would talk, and the goldcloaks might take notice.

He was considering trying to intervene somehow, but to his great relief, Arya took an apple and left. His eyes followed her path closely, though he tried not to make it obvious. She retreated to the far side of the square, still easily in view, then squatted, leaning against the wall and began to eat the fruit, glancing his way every so often. It was all he could do not to run over and embrace her, but he knew that it was important to maintain the charade.

It was well past noon, drawing close to evening, so they did just one more performance. As Jon left to get another basketful of food, he was unsurprised to see that his sister was trailing after him some distance behind. He turned down a side alley, waiting with bated breath until Arya appeared.

"Jon?" she whispered as she drew close.

He had completely forgotten about the helm he wore. Letting out a relieved laugh, he snatched it off his head, falling to his knees. "Arya," he cried as he grabbed his sister and pulled her close. He could feel tears gathering in his eyes, but as he stroked her filthy hair and felt her trembling in his arms, he was not ashamed.

Finally, he pulled back. "I need to get more food so that people are not suspicious. Stay close, but not so close that it is obvious that you are with me," he instructed.

Arya nodded, and he took the opportunity to kiss her on the forehead. "I'm so glad you're safe." The words seemed so hollow, so inadequate, but Arya hugged him once more anyway.

* * *

With the basket full once again, Jon began the trek back to the square, pausing to slip a loaf of bread to his sister. This time, after placing the food up near Tenten, he left and made his way back to the alley, where he was relieved to see that Arya was waiting per his instructions.

He quickly removed the helmet and the leather armor, leaving him clad in linen clothes like many of the other people in the city, though his were of a finer cut than most. He donned a travel-stained cloak, with the hood up to help hide his features, then, after wrapping the helm in the leather to hide it, he carefully guided Arya through several side streets and over toward the inn where he and Tenten were staying, on Eel Alley not far from the Great Sept.

"What about Tenten?" his sister asked softly.

"She'll stay there to provide a distraction for now, then she'll slip away later. She's very good at going unnoticed," Jon assured her.

Arya just nodded, pressing close against Jon as they walked as though she were afraid that he might disappear at any moment. Jon was grateful that she still had her cloak, for though it was stained and muddy, it was of noticeably higher quality than most in King's Landing would wear, which helped to blend in with the occupants staying in the more expensive inns on Visenya's Hill.

Fortunately, no one seemed to pay any attention as he led her into the tavern and up the stairs to the room where he and Tenten were staying. He quickly lit the candles in the room and turned to get a good look at his sister, who by now had removed her cloak.

Jon was unsurprised to see dark circles around Arya's eyes. _She looks as though she's about to fall over, _he thought with dismay. Indeed, she was gazing wistfully at the large bed, though she made no move toward it.

"Lie down," he told her tenderly. "Get some sleep."

Arya slowly followed his instructions, but before she closed her eyes, she looked over at him once more. "Don't leave me," she whispered, the fear and desperation in her soft voice making Jon's heart break.

"I'll be right here," he promised, taking her hand. "I'm not going to leave you."

He doubted that she even heard his final words, for she was fast asleep.

* * *

Arya woke, somewhat confused as she found herself being gently shaken. Opening her eyes, she saw someone crouching beside her.

"Arya-chan, wake up," Tenten said softly.

"Tenten," the girl cried, throwing her arms around her friend's neck, reveling in the warmth as Tenten held her close for several minutes.

"Come," the foreign girl finally said, taking her hand. "The innkeeper has prepared a bath. We must get you clean, then you can sleep."

Arya looked around, noting that at some point Jon had joined her on the bed, and was now fast asleep. Though she was still tired, the idea of a warm bath was too tempting to put up even a hint of protest. Instead, Arya allowed herself to be guided out the door and down a flight of stairs. She could hear raucous laughter coming from tavern, but Tenten steered her deeper into the inn, finally stopping at a heavy wooden door, which she pushed open.

The room inside was small, with just a single, round wooden tub, already filled with steaming water.

Arya quickly removed her clothing and climbed in, the feel of the warm water on her skin such a relief after the long weeks of cold. She heard a noise, and turned to see Tenten climbing into the tub with her.

"I bought some soap," the older girl said. "Come here and I will wash your hair."

It took three washings of her hair and two of her body before she finally felt clean, but in the end Arya had never felt better, though she had been embarrassed when Tenten had to get out and use the bucket to remove some of the filth floating on the water's surface. To Arya's relief, her friend had not made any comment about her unkempt state.

Finally, they were finished, the water long since having lost its warmth. Tenten opened the drain at the bottom of the tub, allowing the befouled water to flow into a narrow channel that led to a small hole in the wall, then showed Arya some new clothes she had purchased. They were a little large for the Stark girl, but as she felt the soft garments caress her skin, she could not imagine how anything could feel better.

Tenten once more guided her up the stairs and into the room, then disappeared for a few minutes. When she returned, she was carrying a large mug, which she handed to Arya.

"Food is important, but so is drink," the girl explained.

Arya took a sip and smiled at the familiar taste of watered mead. She quickly drained the mug, surprised to realize just how thirsty she had been.

"Do you want another one?" Tenten asked softly.

Arya shook her head. "No. I'm ready to sleep now."

Tenten leaned over and kissed Arya gently on the forehead. "Then go to sleep. I will be back soon."

Arya climbed into bed, scooting close to Jon, the warmth of his body filling her with relief. She closed her eyes, listening to his rhythmic breathing. She barely noticed when Tenten returned, the bed creaking softly as the foreign woman joined them under the covers.

As she finally drifted off to sleep, Arya's only thought was that this was the most comfortable bed she had ever imagined.

* * *

Tenten kept a close eye on Arya the next day as the trio broke their fast in their room. It was almost painful to see how traumatized the once cheerful and lively girl had become. Now, she rarely spoke, and preferred to maintain some sort of physical contact with someone at all times. Even as they ate, she was leaning up against Jon, taking advantage of the fact that she used her left hand, while Jon used his right.

Sadly, Tenten knew that the only real cure for Arya's condition was time. Though, hopefully once the rest of her family was safe, that would help as well.

"We don't need to continue the performances, but I was thinking last night, and I think this is a good opportunity," Tenten began, breaking the silence.

"Opportunity?" Jon asked.

"Bran and Sansa will not be able to ride a horse for long periods of time, so when we leave, we will need a cart at least, maybe a wagon. If I buy a wagon while dressed as the performer from Lys and say that I must now go to…" She thought for a moment. It was unlikely that anyone would connect the street performer with the rescue of the Starks, but just in case, it wouldn't hurt to start laying a false trail. "Dorne," she finally decided, "it gives people a reason that I am buying the wagon and necessary supplies, and explains why the performer is no longer in King's Landing."

"How much would that cost?" her lover inquired.

Tenten could only shrug. "No idea. I have never bought a wagon in King's Landing before," she replied with a playful smile. "But I think we will have enough," she continued in a more serious tone. That was likely an understatement. Even with how much they had spent over the past months, they still had more than a hundred gold dragons left from the bandit's treasure.

"Once you get the wagon, what will you do?" Arya asked in a small voice.

"Take it outside the city and hide it somewhere," the kunoichi replied thoughtfully. "Ghost and Nymeria can guard it for us until we rescue your family and escape the city."

"Should I come with you?" Jon asked hesitantly.

"No, probably best that I do it by myself." Tenten kept her voice light as though the matter was of no consequence, but she glanced meaningfully at the younger Stark girl. Jon nodded in understanding, seemingly grateful for the chance to stay with his sister.

* * *

To Tenten's surprise, it was not difficult for her to find a well-to-do merchant willing to sell his wagon and team of mules. She probably paid quite a bit more than they were worth, judging by the avaricious look on the man's face, but from what she could see, the animals were in good condition, and the wagon was well built, with sturdy, spoked wheels and iron hubs and axles. Still, with her purse thirty dragons lighter, it was a significant investment, one that she hoped would pay off once the rest of the Starks were free.

It was as she approached the gate and observed the guards that Tenten realized she had overlooked a good opportunity to smuggle Arya out of the city as well.

"Change of plan," she announced when she returned to the tavern, having paid the innkeeper extra to attend to the mules and store the wagon behind the inn for the night. Jon and Arya looked at her quizzically. "We will stay here tonight, then, in the morning, we will all leave. You two can stay with the wagon and the direwolves to ensure that nobody steals our supplies. I will come back to the city and rescue the others."

"The guards are looking for me," Arya protested.

Tenten smirked. "And when they see you, they will not see a Lord's daughter. They will see the younger brother of my guard. I have ink, I will draw fake tattoos on your face. Both of your faces," she clarified, glancing at Jon. "So they will not think you are Arya Stark. That way, you can guard the wagon and supplies while I rescue your family. That way, we know that we are ready to escape as soon as the Starks are free from the Red Keep."

"You really think we can disguise ourselves well enough to sneak past the guards?" Jon's voice was not overly skeptical, rather Tenten believed he was just seeking confirmation that she was confident in her plan.

"Yes, but there is one thing that will help," Tenten admitted before turning back to the younger girl. "Arya, can we cut your hair?"

* * *

They spent the rest of the night planning and preparing. Tenten had Arya recount everything she could remember about her time in the Red Keep, and about the tunnels the girl had used to escape. The sun had long since vanished over the horizon when they finally stopped to sleep, though Tenten woke them early in the morning to ensure they had time to properly apply the disguises. Finally, with one last admonition to her two companions not to touch their faces lest they smear the ink, they set off.

As expected, the guards were still carefully searching everyone who attempted to leave, undoubtedly looking for Arya.

"Remember," the kunoichi said softly. "Arya, you do not speak our language. If they say anything, wait until I translate in my language. Stay calm, and we will get through the gate without a problem."

In truth, Tenten was more nervous than she pretended. Her plan had many advantages if it worked, but there was plenty of risk as well. If the guards did realize that Arya was a young girl in disguise, things could turn ugly quickly, which would force them to fight their way through, a difficult task given the impressive fortifications around the gate. While her plan would have worked well for a squad of ninja, Arya had no real experience in combat or deception, and Jon was, despite his incredible skill with a blade, still far from being a veteran.

A long line of people had formed, impatiently waiting to be inspected and allowed out of the city. When it was finally their turn, Tenten was not surprised that the guards focused primarily on her, likely due in no small part to the incredibly revealing clothing she wore. She didn't enjoy showing so much skin, but, as the Sandaime had once said, shinobi endured. A little immodesty was a small price to pay to save the lives of Ned-sama and his family.

Jon and Arya did not look at all like Westerosi, and certainly not like the children of a Lord. Tenten had drawn a series of shapes on their faces, mostly triangular, though she put an ornate swirl on each side of their eyes, and, to Arya's amusement, the Konoha leaf on their foreheads. Small wads of cloth had been placed in their mouths up against the gums, changing the shapes of their faces from the stereotypical long, slender Northern look. Jon was once more wearing his back scabbard, the unusual design of which would no doubt further convince the guards that he was, indeed, a foreigner.

The guards searched the wagon thoroughly, even going so far as to unload some of the supplies to ensure there was no opportunity for someone to hide. Arya played her part well. When the guards ordered her to get down from the wagon seat, she waited until Tenten quickly translated before complying. The fact that the man then ignored the young girl to instead inspect the bench made it even more amusing. After just a cursory glance, the guards dismissed all three of them, choosing instead to focus on searching through the piles of rope, tools, blankets, feather-stuffed mattress, food and other provisions the trio had purchased for their journey.

There was a brief moment of concern when one of the guards, an arrogant-looking man with a haughty, pinched expression, approached Tenten claiming the need to search her more thoroughly, beginning by grabbing the halter top she wore and pulling it up to expose her breasts. Though she wanted to gut the man, Tenten forced herself to remain calm. Fortunately, the captain of the gate, a broad man with a prosthetic hand and a stern, severe bearing had seen this, and immediately began berating the soldier while giving orders for the wagon to be allowed through.

As they emerged from the tunnel through the double portcullises blockading the exit, Tenten let out a silent sigh of relief, and was unsurprised to see both Jon and Arya seemed to relax as well. Still, they traveled in silence, following the Kingsroad south until they had passed the many small hamlets that dotted the land south of the Blackwater.

It came as no surprise when Ghost and Nymeria emerged from the woods. Inwardly, Tenten marveled at the connection the Starks shared with the large wolves. It almost appeared as though the massive canines understood the plan, as they seemed to guide the wagon through the rough terrain to a small grove of trees near a brook not far from the seashore. There was plenty of grass for the mules, and they were far enough from the road that it would be very unlikely they would be discovered by any passersby.

In short, it was the perfect place for Jon and Arya to wait until Tenten had rescued the other Starks.


	10. Chapter 10: Rescue Part 2

Chapter 10: Rescue Part 2

Sneaking back into King's Landing, and even into the Red Keep itself was as simple as breathing for Tenten. Taking the guise of a non-descript maid, she quickly snatched up a bundle of cloth and began to make her way toward the lower levels where, she knew from the last time she had infiltrated the Red Keep, the servants worked.

Arya's tale had been interesting, but there was one point that stood out in Tenten's mind - the secret passages underneath the castle. Arya had found a path through the darkness out into the main city. Tenten was convinced that there must be other ways, as well, and hopefully she could find one that would lead out to the rocky seashore surrounding the keep.

Of course, the fact that others used the tunnels as well, as evidenced by the hushed conversation Arya had overheard, meant that she would need to be careful. Which is why Tenten's first goal was to eliminate the person most likely to know about and use the tunnels. After all, what sort of a spymaster would not know about such a fatal flaw in the security of his own keep?

* * *

Varys' chambers were on the north side of the keep, right up against the wall. Entering without hesitation, Tenten was pleased to see that the spymaster was not present. Placing the appropriated linens on the ground, she began to inspect the walls, hoping to find an entrance to the passageways. After all, why else would the man have chosen to live in such a small and distant set of chambers?

It was over an hour later that she finally discovered the mechanism to lift the heavy stone bed, an extraordinary feat of engineering and construction that left the young kunoichi deeply impressed. She could begin exploring the tunnels, but instead she chose to sit on a chair in the corner and wait patiently for her target to return.

She was in for quite a long wait, as it turned out. Hours passed before the bald spymaster finally appeared. If the man was at all surprised to see her, he gave no sign of it.

"So, the Lady Tenten graces me with her presence at last," the man said in a simpering tone. "I am glad that you managed to find some real clothes to wear."

Before coming, Tenten had already made the decision of how to deal with Varys. This unsubtle hint that he was aware that she had been the performer, and possibly knew that she had already found and rescued Arya, only firmed that resolve. Her hand flashed out. Varys had no time to react; instead, the heavy man fell to his knees, his eyes wide open in shock as he reached for the kunai now buried in his throat.

Once more, Tenten was struck by a sense of amusement at the foolishness of the Westerosi. A spymaster was one of the most important people in any government, and as such, was one of the most vulnerable. The very idea that they would not only publicly announce his identity, but choose a man who had little ability to defend himself was absolutely absurd.

In Konoha, it had been an open secret among the shinobi that the two remaining loyal sannin, Tsunade-sama and Jiraiya-sama, were responsible for Konoha's spy network, though Tenten had not heard any speculation on who might have been chosen as Tsunade-sama's replacement now that she had abandoned her long-term cover as a wandering gambler and was serving as the Godaime Hokage. And while there might have been some element of risk in having two high-profile members of Konoha's forces responsible for such an important task, the number of people who stood a chance of successfully attacking either of them was so low that it was almost no risk.

Varys, however, had not had any such martial skill, leaving him an easy target for any enemy of the crown. Undoubtedly, whatever spies or other informants he had would eventually make contact with the man's replacement, or perhaps with another of Joffrey's advisors. For now, however, the Lannisters would be cut off from the information network they normally relied upon.

Gathering the cloth she had brought, Tenten quickly frisked the corpse, gathering a small bag of money, an ornate medallion, and a ring of keys, then carefully wrapped the body, leaving the kunai in place for the time being to help staunch the flow of blood. It wasn't perfect, but, then again, it didn't need to be. The less evidence she left now, the less she would have to clean up later, however.

With chakra enhancing her muscles, lifting the fat man was an easy task. The kunoichi hoisted him onto one shoulder, then carefully walked down the stairs hidden under the bed into the inky blackness of the secret tunnels. Setting the body down at the bottom of the stairs, Tenten returned to the room to finish cleaning the blood.

Once her task was complete, Tenten lit a candle and calmly made her way down the hidden stairs once more, pausing briefly to pull the bed closed behind her. Soon, she was standing in a sea of black, her small candle the only source of light to be seen.

If she were to be honest, she would have to admit that it was quite an unnerving experience. Despite her ninja training, she had always preferred a straight fight as opposed to creeping around in the darkness. But rather than dwelling on the uncomfortable and even intimidating environment she found herself in, she focused on the task at hand. She had told Jon and Arya to expect her in five days. Now, she had work to do to fulfill that promise.

* * *

The sense of loss and longing when Tenten finally disappeared hit Jon like a hammer blow. She had been his constant companion for months. To know that she was gone, and he would not see her for several days was surprisingly painful. Still, the presence of his youngest sister (and, though he would never admit it aloud, his favorite sibling) was enough to distract him from his anguish.

"Let's get this ink off of our faces," he said in a cheerful voice, pretending not to notice that Arya, too, had been staring disconsolately to the north where Tenten had vanished.

To Jon's dismay and Arya's amusement, their efforts were only partly successful. The ink had stained their faces such that no matter how much they scrubbed, remains of the designs could be seen, the faded blue standing out on their skin.

It would fade in time, the dark-haired boy hoped. But for now, there were other matters requiring his attention. He unhitched the team of mules from the wagon and tied their leads to a tree with a long rope, ensuring plenty of slack so that they could graze on the thick grass in the area and even drink from the small stream. Then he set to work gathering wood for a fire, taking the time to dig a small pit in a natural hollow so that the blaze could not be seen by anyone outside their camp. As he worked, he was careful to keep one eye on Arya, who was joyously reuniting with Nymeria.

If it were just him, Jon would have preferred a simple meal, but he knew that it was important that Arya had plenty to eat. She had been starving for weeks, and it would take time for her body to recover. Some thick, hearty stew and some of the bread they had brought from King's Landing would serve her well, he thought as he began to cut the carrots, leeks, onions, and other vegetables. As though sensing his desire, Ghost had vanished into the trees, returning an hour later with a small boar held in his jaws. Jon carefully prepared a large portion of the meat then added it to the stew, leaving the rest for the direwolves.

The gibbous moon had just appeared on the horizon when their supper was finally ready. To Jon's relief, Arya ate two bowlfuls of the soup, along with the lion's share of a loaf of bread. When they had finished, they washed the dishes and spoons in the river, then returned to sit side by side, staring into the flames.

"So, do you want to hear about Oldtown?" Jon asked, more to break the spell of silence between them than out of any real desire to tell his sister about the Citadel.

Arya nodded, and Jon began to regale her with the tales of his and Tenten's adventure in the far south. He was pleased to see that she grew more attentive and responsive as he spoke, even laughing when he admitted his confusion over Alleras' deception, though he was careful not to make any mention of how that revelation had changed his and Tenten's relationship, nor of the activities the two had begun to engage in of late.

It was when he had finished recounting their escapade in the forest, pursuing the bandits to their lair and valiantly putting an end to the vicious fiends that Arya finally spoke.

"Is that where you got your new sword?" his sister inquired.

Jon couldn't help but smile. Of course Arya would take note of the sword. "Yes," he replied. "Or at least, that's where the blade came from. When we arrived at Oldtown, I had it inspected by a smith there. The handle needed some work, so I left it with him. Tenten went back later and paid the man extra to fit it with a new guard and pommel as well and showed the man how to make this scabbard so that I can carry it on my back. She gave it to me as a surprise gift for my nameday." He drew the weapon and handed it to her, smiling a little as she inspected it closely in the flickering light of the flames.

"It's a nice sword," his sister commented, her voice a little louder now. "What is its name?"

"It doesn't have a name, Arya," Jon replied, chuckling softly. "Names are for fancy swords wielded by great lords. This is just a sword."

To his surprise, Arya fixed him with a fierce glare. "It's not _just_ a sword," she said hotly. "You said it yourself, it was a gift from Tenten." She paused, eyebrows furrowed in thought. "Are you and Tenten going to get married?"

Jon was shocked by the abrupt question but answered truthfully anyway. "I think so." A sigh. "I hope so."

"Then this sword is a gift from your wife. It's not just some sword." Arya concluded, her tone making it clear that she would tolerate no further argument.

"Okay, you're right, Arya," Jon said in surrender. "It's not just a sword."

"So, what's its name?" Arya asked again.

Jon was silent for a moment, gazing at the weapon, admiring the way the black gems contrasted against the brilliant shine of the highly polished hilt. "Shadow," he finally said. "The sword's name is Shadow."

"Shadow," Arya repeated, gripping the leather hilt with both hands and bringing the blade up with obvious effort.

"When we get back to Winterfell, we'll have to get you a sword of your own," Jon said, inwardly laughing at how his sister's eyes lit up at the idea. "Tell me about your teacher. Syrio, is that what you said his name was?"

Arya's smile was tinged with sorrow, but she answered nonetheless, telling Jon about her time in King's Landing. He pulled her close and held her tightly when she finally began to speak of when the Lannister's attacked, and of Syrio's last stand as he sacrificed himself so that she could escape. He did not interrupt her, simply rubbing her back as she continued. Her breaths were ragged as she told of her escape from the tower, of her horror as she discovered the bodies of their father's bannerman. And finally, with tears in her eyes, she admitted that she had killed a boy her age.

Jon was quick to reassure her that she had done nothing wrong. "You were protecting yourself," he said, his voice little more than a whisper as he gently rocked her. "Sometimes, we have to do unpleasant things to protect ourselves and the ones we love. You did what you had to do. And me, and Father, and your lady mother, and all your siblings, and Tenten, we all love you, and are glad that you were strong enough to do what you needed to do to stay safe."

The silence lasted several minutes, but this time, rather than the uncomfortable silence from earlier in the evening, it was a peaceful silence as Arya composed herself.

"When you and Tenten get married, does that mean that she'll be my sister?" the girl finally inquired.

"Yes, she will," Jon replied, not at all concerned about speaking for the absent kunoichi. He knew how close the two of them were.

"That will be nice," Arya said, her voice wistful, then her mouth widened into a yawn.

Jon laughed. "I think that means it's time for you to go to bed. I already laid the mattress out in the wagon."

"Are you coming to bed, too?"

"I'll be there in a little while. I need to put out the fire and keep watch for just a little longer, then I'll join you," he promised.

* * *

To Tenten's relief, learning to navigate the labyrinthian passages under the Red Keep was easier than she had expected. Or, perhaps, it would be more accurate to say that she got lucky. It didn't take long to find a passageway that led to a torture chamber which turned out to be the lowest level of the dungeon, just one level below the infamous black cells where Ned-sama was reportedly being held. There were a few locked gates along the way, but the keys she had retrieved from Varys solved that problem. Tenten considered herself even more fortunate when she discovered a set of rungs mounted on the wall of a small, round chamber that led up to the Tower of the Hand. Further exploration had revealed a path to a small cave in the cliff by the sea. A series of small handholds had been carved into the rocky face. It had only been two days, and she already had the pieces she needed to get the Starks out of the keep. Of course, getting them over to the campsite where Jon and Arya were waiting would be a bit more complicated.

_If I have a small rowboat waiting at the bottom of the cliff there, we can easily float with the current away from the city, then row across the bay and around the point to where Jon and Arya are waiting. It might take a while to find them, but it wouldn't be too difficult. The direwolves would probably find me first._

Tenten looked out over the water, grateful for the moon, which, though it was nearer to half than full, provided enough light for her to see several large ships anchored in the bay. She smiled grimly. There was something poetic about the idea of the royal navy providing the means for the Starks to escape.

Tenten wasn't the strongest swimmer, but thanks to her ability to walk on water using chakra, that didn't matter. She sprinted across the rough, shifting surface of Blackwater Bay, years of practice in chakra control serving her well as she dashed toward the nearest galley. Climbing to the deck was simple, even without chakra, though she paused before she reached the top to ensure that there were no sentries standing watch. She could hear laughter and men's voices coming from one of the cabins, but there did not appear to be anyone on the deck. She cautiously pulled herself up over the rough wooden rail, grabbing a nearby rope to help steady herself.

As she had expected, there were several small rowboats tied to the center of the deck in case the sailors needed to abandon ship, or just use them for quick transportation to another ship or to the shore in an area where the water was not deep enough to get close without beaching the large galley. A frown crossed her face. _If I take one of these now, the sailors will notice when they come out of the cabin._

Of course, that didn't mean that she shouldn't. There were pros and cons to every course of action. But on the whole, Tenten decided it would be better to wait until just before she freed the Starks. And given that dawn wasn't too far off, that would need to wait until the next night, when she would have more time.

She jumped off the ship and onto the water below, causing a large wave to ripple out from where she landed, though her feet only went a little below the surface. It didn't take long to run back to the cliff, though it did take some time for her to find the entrance to the network of secret passages.

Tenten sat in the cave mouth, looking over the bay as the sun rose, painting the heavens with brilliant red and orange streaks. A few clouds hung low over the ocean, like little black islands in the sky. Her thoughts were not on the admittedly impressive sight before her, though. Rather, she was planning.

_Get supplies, leave them in the round chamber in the tunnels. Food would be good. I doubt Ned-sama's had much to eat in that cell. And I'll need some rope. Bran could probably climb down the rungs from the Hand's tower, or down the cliff face, but Sansa wouldn't have a chance. I'll have to lower her down._

Finally, the kunoichi stood, and began the long trek down the now-familiar path through the dark tunnels. _It should only take a few hours to gather the supplies I'll need_, she thought, pleased that it would give her time for one last task before she rescued Ned-sama and his children.

* * *

Petyr Baelish was feeling quite proud of himself. It had taken some careful maneuvering to lead Eddard Stark, ever the honorable fool, into 'discovering' the truth about the Queen's bastards, and even more to arrange a confrontation between the two, where Littlefinger's sudden betrayal would ensure Stark's downfall. Still, it had all worked out in the end, and very few people had any idea of the role he had played in the whole affair.

At last, he was one step closer to having his revenge on the Starks, to satisfying at last the endless thirst for retribution that had taken root within him when he learned his beloved Cat was to marry that Northern brute, Brandon, and had consumed him completely as he lay in agony after the foolish duel. He knew now that he was not meant for such idiotic methods as swordplay and combat. No, he had learned that true power was not in how well a man could swing a sword, for there was always someone better. Rather, it lay in being the unseen hand that guided the blade – the quiet whisper that doomed men long before they even realized the threat they faced.

Like so many others, Eddard Stark had underestimated Petyr. And now, Stark was in the black cells, while Petyr had earned the gratitude of the bastard king. A modest step, for now, but one that would lead to even greater opportunities. _Chaos is a ladder._

The important thing now would be to ensure that Eddard did not live to tell the tale of Petyr's betrayal. After all, what would his dear Catelyn think if she learned that he was responsible for the fate of her barbarian husband? Not to mention the many lords of the Vale who remembered Stark fondly from his time at the Eyrie as Jon Arryn's ward. No, it would be best for all if Eddard were to die. This thought brought a smile to Petyr's face, and not just because of the imminent prospects of Stark's death. After all, if Stark were to die in a way that caused the North to blame the Lannisters, that would just add more fuel to the fire. Even more chaos, to lift him even higher.

Petyr nearly jumped in shock as the door to his opulent solar crashed open. "I gave orders not to…" his voice trailed off when he saw that, instead of the guard he had been expecting, it was a young woman who had barged in. The strange dagger in her hand was certainly enough to raise some concerns in Petyr's mind, but he carefully schooled his features.

"Where is Jeyne Poole?" the girl demanded, her accent so thick it was almost difficult to understand.

_And this must be the sellsword Catelyn was so worried about,_ the man thought with a poorly concealed smirk. "She's downstairs. The guards are helping to… train her for the duties of her new position."

To his amusement, the foreign mercenary's eyes narrowed at his phrasing. Yes, she might claim to take offence at how the northern whore was being treated, but deep down, sellswords were all the same. _Cersei was right_, he thought, remembering one of the Queen's surprisingly pithy statements (an uncommon thing indeed). _Loyal sellswords are as rare as virgin whores._

"The question is, why are you here?" To demonstrate his complete lack of concern, Littlefinger stood from the desk and poured himself a goblet of wine.

"I rescue her," the strange woman replied.

"Yes, I understand that's what you intend to do. But why? What's in it for you?" Petyr pressed, not bothering to hide the condescension in his voice.

"I rescue northerners, Ned-sama pay me money," the girl replied after a brief hesitation.

"So, after you rescue the cunt in the basement, you're going to find his missing daughter, and what then? Charge the Red Keep, storm down into the dungeons and free Eddard? You'll be cut down before you even get close."

"I can find way," the sellsword insisted. "And already found Arya."

Petyr's eyes lit up. "Already found the other girl, did you? Impressive." He stroked the small, pointed beard on his chin. "And what reward will you receive when this extraordinary task is complete?"

"Ned-sama, he say he pay me ten thousand," the girl said proudly.

"Ten thousand what?"

Petyr was pleased to see the young woman's face momentarily contort in confusion. "Gold," she finally replied.

"Ten thousand gold dragons," Littlefinger said, nodding his head appreciatively. "Quite a sum. Unfortunately, a sum that Eddard Stark does not have."

Surprise flickered in the sellsword's eyes. "He big lord," she protested.

"Yes, Winterfell is an impressive castle, but Stark himself is actually quite poor. The North is a desolate land, and the people in it are just a small step above abject poverty." Littlefinger's smile turned predatory. "I, on the other hand, have gold to spare, as you can easily see." He gestured to the extravagantly decorated room. "Bring Arya Stark to me, and I will see her safely home, _and_ I will pay you the money that Stark promised you."

Any concern about his current situation died at the conflicted look on the girl's face, which slowly gave way to grudging acceptance. "First, show me money," she said as she set the strange knife on the table.

Baelish's smile lit up with triumphant glee.

"Come right this way," he said as he pressed on a small statue of a naked woman, causing one section of the wall to recede, revealing a hidden doorway. He took a few steps in, then turned to gesture at the walls, filled with coins and valuable gems, not to mention other, less savory items.

"As you can clearly see, I do have…" he cut off with a cough as white-hot pain shot through him. He looked down, staring confused at the dagger hilt protruding from his stomach.

"I am a kunoichi of Konoha," the sellsword whispered fiercely, eyes filled with hate. "My loyalty is not for sale." Her furious expression twisted into a triumphant smirk. "But thank you for the money."

Rage filled the Mockingbird. _It's not supposed to be like this! _The idea that he had been outwitted by someone loyal to a Stark, of all people, was a bitter truth to accept. All his schemes, his thirst for vengeance, his dreams of a life with Catelyn, or, if need be, her daughter, so much like her… it was all for naught. He wanted to scream and yell at the injustice of it all, but all that came out was a wet gurgle.

* * *

_Seriously, how did 'the most devious man in Westeros' not see that coming? Someone offers you a bribe, demand to see it first, then kill him and take the money. That's so simple._ Tenten shook her head in exasperation.

Still, it made things easier for Tenten. Baelish had not understood what it meant to be a true shinobi. It wasn't about the money, but a fleshpeddler like Baelish would never realize that. _Slynt was right_, she realized. In the end, all Littlefinger had was money and secrets, neither of which had any power over the young kunoichi.

Looking down at the corpse, Tenten gave a mental shrug. The man was dead, and good riddance. Now, there was work to be done. She glanced over to the desk, carefully eyeing the expensive-looking parchment and ink. _I wonder…_

Though she felt a little guilty at delaying rescuing Jeyne, who was probably being raped at that very moment, Tenten knew that taking the time to gather the valuables would make their escape much easier. And, sad as it was to say, the girl had been at the non-existent mercy of Baelish's men for weeks now. Half an hour would not make much difference.

It didn't take long for Tenten to realize that her theory had been correct. The ink, of a much higher quality than anything she had seen in Westeros this far, mixed with a little of her blood was able to hold chakra, and the smooth, even vellum provided a stable base for a seal.

Tenten couldn't help the excitement that bubbled up inside her. Though it had been well over a year since she last made a storage seal, her hands danced unerringly over the parchment as she drew the needed arcane symbols. Finally, she was finished. Not wanting to risk the gold or jewels on an untested seal, she selected a large statue, setting it carefully on the large sheet, then applied the necessary chakra. As she had hoped, the statue disappeared, only to reappear again with another pulse of chakra.

Now smiling widely, Tenten set about making another dozen storage seals, which she used to hold all the coin and other valuables in Littlefinger's hidden trove. When she finished, she carefully packaged the scrolls, along with the excess parchment and ink, into a small pouch that she tied to her back.

Careful not to jostle her precious cargo too much, Tenten exited the room, ignoring the bodies of the guards she had killed on her way in. Evening had only just arrived, but there were still plenty of customers in the brothel, though Tenten paid no mind to them, or to the ladies whose affection they were purchasing.

The whorehouse had a fairly straightforward layout, making it very easy to find the staircase that led down into the basement where Tenten assumed, from what Baelish had said, Jeyne was being held.

As she drew near, she could hear female screams. She burst through the door, kunai in hand and quickly eliminated the startled guards, who hardly had time to register that they were under attack. Literally caught with their pants down, the men offered no challenge to the angry kunoichi. Within seconds, they were all dead.

Tenten looked down at the girl on the bed, but to her surprise, it was not Jeyne.

"Jeyne Poole. Do you know her?" the kunoichi demanded, no longer bothering to exaggerate her accent, but the girl made no reply, her sobs filling the room.

Though she knew the wailing girl had just been through a harrowing experience, Tenten simply didn't have time to wait. She looked around the room, letting out a sigh of relief as she spotted a door in the far wall with a heavy length of wood spanning cross the frame holding it shut.

_I should have made that rapist bastard's death more painful_, she thought as she unbarred and opened the door. Inside, she could make out about half a dozen girls who had obviously suffered greatly. "You are free," she announced. "Grab clothes and escape. Is Jeyne Poole here?"

"Ten… Tenten?" a hesitant voice asked. The kunoichi turned to see Sansa's friend staring at her with wide eyes.

"Come, we must go," she ordered. "Take what you want, but leave quickly," she instructed the others as she grabbed Jeyne and began pulling her toward the door.

Tenten led the northern girl up the stairs, pausing just long enough to find some new clothes, since the ones Jeyne currently wore had been so badly torn that they could hardly be termed as such. As the other girl got dressed, Tenten busied herself by locating the storeroom, where she found several small clay amphoras filled with oil for lamps. _Perfect._

Tenten grabbed the first jar and threw it into a luxurious waiting room where it shattered, spilling the precious liquid on the ground and eliciting surprised shrieks from the prostitutes seated on the brightly colored couches around the room. "You should run," she helpfully advised the scantily clad girls as she pulled a lit candle from a sconce on the wall and threw it at the flammable liquid spilling over the floor.

A wave of flame filled the room and screams of fear and panic could be heard from all around. She repeated the process in another room, and then another, though she took care to ensure that she didn't block the exit. Jeyne reappeared, clothed once more, staring in horror at the flames licking hungrily at the walls.

"What…" The girl was obviously so confused that she struggled to put her thoughts into words.

"More people panicking makes it easier for us to get away," the kunoichi explained as she grabbed the bewildered girl and began forcefully leading her down the hall. They joined the other stream of people rushing to the doors, many of them naked, having clearly been interrupted during their activities. Tenten hoped the other girls from the basement had managed to escape as well, but she just didn't have the time to worry about them. Their fate was in their own hands.

As they exited the brothel, Tenten glanced back and was unsurprised to see a thick column of dark smoke rising above the building, though no flames could be seen from the road they were on. Looking once more at how closely spaced the buildings were, and the apparent lack of any sort of coordinated fire response, it finally dawned on her that her actions might have slightly more severe consequences than she had expected. Still, there was nothing she could do about it now, and to be honest, even if she had known that the fire would get out of hand, it wouldn't have stopped her. Her mission was to rescue Ned-sama and his family. Even Jeyne was just a bonus, though one that she knew Ned-sama would be grateful for. After all, unlike many lords, he was genuinely concerned about the welfare of all his people.

A goldcloak tried to stop them, but Tenten wasted no time in cutting the enemy soldier down. Still maintaining a firm grip on Jeyne's arm, she led the girl down one side alley and then another, until they finally arrived at a burned-out smithy at the base of Aegon's High Hill.

"Come," she said as she ducked inside, stooping low to pass underneath a fallen beam. At the back of the ruined building was a small, metal grate, which she held up for the other girl. "Climb in, then wait for me. I will guide you on the safe path."

Thankfully, Jeyne made no attempt to question the instructions she had been given. The frightened girl climbed down into the filthy tunnel without a word, going just far enough for Tenten to squeeze down in as well, carefully lowering the grate into its original, unassuming position behind her.

Tenten had purchased the supplies she would need for the escape earlier that day and left them in the tunnel. It didn't take long to find the lantern, which she used the Firestarter jutsu to quickly light, ignoring Jeyne's startled gasp.

"Follow right behind me," Tenten ordered as she grabbed the large bag of supplies, then set off without waiting for a reply.

The tunnels curved and sloped, and Tenten had to stop a few times to carefully guide the other girl around one trap or another, but eventually they arrived at the round chamber with the dragon pattern on the floor.

"Wait here. I will be back soon."

Jeyne nodded frantically, her eyes wide with shock.

Placing the bags on the floor, Tenten unlocked the gate that led to the oceanside cave, doing her best to be silent. She had not seen anyone else in these tunnels, but that was no guarantee that she was alone.

The sun had just begun to set when she emerged in the cave overlooking the bay. Tenten was pleased to see that the galleys were still there, anchored less than half a mile offshore.

She waited about half an hour for the sky to grow darker. Fortunately, the moon had not yet appeared on the horizon, ensuring that she remained unseen as she raced across the water to the galley. This time, there was a guard standing watch on the deck, but her perfect accuracy ended his life before he had a chance to make a sound. She swept through the ship quickly, eliminating several other sailors, though, as she had expected, most were already ashore.

Even a small rowboat would have been too heavy for a single person unaided by chakra, but it was simple for a competent kunoichi, especially one who had been trained for two years by a taijutsu monster like Maito Gai. A thick rope allowed her to lower the dinghy to the water below, then she climbed in and began to row back toward the keep.

Though the ground here was rocky, it didn't take long for Tenten to find a safe place to drag the boat up on the shore. By now, she knew very well where the tunnel entrance was, allowing her to scale the cliff quickly. A few clouds were barely visible in the darkness overhead, but with luck, there would be no rain.

Jeyne jumped in shock when Tenten reappeared, but the kunoichi ignored it. "I am going to rescue Ned-sama. Stay here."

She set off down the tunnel, carefully navigating the treacherous course until she arrived in the torture chamber in the lowest level of the dungeons. Setting the lantern on the floor, she crept toward the stairs, her careful footsteps silent in the inky darkness.

Tenten had carefully observed the dungeon guards the day previous. By now, their rounds should be done, and it was unlikely that they would check on the prisoners again before the next morning. Unfortunately, she had been unable to locate the keys, having concluded that they were likely stored in the guardhouse above the dungeon, so she would have to hope that one of the many keys Varys had in his possession would open the cell doors. _And if not, well, they're made of wood, and wood breaks if you punch it hard enough_, the kunoichi thought grimly.

Once she was sure the guards were gone, she retrieved the lantern, the dim light allowing her to see the rough doors of the cells. Her luck continued to hold out, as she discovered that one of the keys on the iron ring did, in fact, open the doors of the black cells. Tenten knew four of the cells were occupied, but she had no idea which one Ned-sama was being held in, so she would just have to try them all.

Tenten slowly turned the key in the first door, listening for any sound. The door swung open with a soft creak, and Tenten held the lantern up, filling the small room with a pale orange glow. The occupant of the room, a slender man with strange hair, red on one side and white on the other, observed her with a surprisingly detached air, making no sound. Tenten stepped back, preparing to shut the door once more, when the man suddenly rushed at her with inhuman speed.

Biting back a curse, Tenten jumped back, dropping the lantern in her haste as she drew her kunai. It fell to the ground with a loud clatter, causing Tenten to wince, and the light flickered and went out.

More by instinct than by any conscious thought, Tenten dodged to the right, then slashed her kunai forward and was rewarded with a soft grunt, though she could tell that the wound was not severe. She had never put much effort into learning to fight blindfolded, an oversight that she was now regretting.

The breath was driven from her lungs as her assailant tackled her, smashing her into the wall. Her head slammed against the unforgiving stone wall, causing the world to spin around her as she struggled to remain conscious. The strange man backed away before she could retaliate, and Tenten was horrified to realize that she had dropped her kunai.

_I am not going to die here. Not like this._ Like a mantra, Tenten repeated that thought over and over, as she turned her head, straining her ears for even the slightest sound to locate her enemy. Marwyn had guessed that magic users may be able to sense her presence, which, if true, gave her opponent a massive advantage in the darkness. Tenten's mind raced as she tried to think of some way to compensate, but before any such idea appeared, she was attacked again.

As she fell to the floor, she lashed out with her foot, striking the man's leg, causing him to trip and fall. Without hesitation, Tenten dove over toward the sound, managing to grab hold of the man before he escaped into the darkness once again. Blows rained down on her head, but she refused to let go. With her legs wrapped around the man like a limpet, she managed to catch one of his arms in hers, robbing him of the leverage needed to hit her with any effect. The next attack surprised her even more as the man bit down on her forearm. Despite the pain, a vicious glee filled her. _Shouldn't have let me know where your head is, you son of a bitch!_ With chakra flowing through her body, strengthening her muscles to inhuman levels fueled even more by pain and the adrenaline coursing through her veins, she wrapped an arm around his head and gave a savage jerk.

A crack sounded throughout the room, and the man in her arms went limp.

* * *

It was strange to look back on his life, Eddard thought, and see it all laid out. So many things left unsaid, left undone. And so many things that he had thought important, but now, looking back, he wondered why he had even bothered.

He knew that he was not long for this world. His arm had been badly wounded during the fighting when that honorless, degenerate, depraved whoremaster had betrayed him. Of all the mistakes he had made during his short time in King's Landing (which, he admitted, were many) none galled him so much as his decision to trust Petyr Baelish. He had known that it was a foolish idea, but swayed by the man's honeyed words and the exhortations in his wife's letters, he had instead allowed the grasping, two-faced snake into his confidence. And not only he himself, but all his men and even his children had paid the price for his folly.

From what Varys had said, Sansa and Bran were being held by the Lannisters, while Arya was nowhere to be found. Eddard could only hope that she managed to escape, though he knew the chances were low. More likely, she was already dead, or even worse, given the horrors that could befall an innocent young girl all alone, she may wish she were. It was a bitter pill to swallow.

_My father and brother came to this city, and they died here. And like a fool, I followed their example._ How he wished that he had stayed in the North! He would have gladly borne Robert's wrath if it meant that his family was safe.

To Ned's surprise, a light appeared, thin streams shining through the crack beneath the door. His brow furrowed in confusion. Normally, the guards were free with their taunts when they came to bring food, but now, there was no noise. And hadn't the guards already walked their rounds for the day? It was difficult to judge the passage of time alone in the dark, especially since his injured arm had turned foul, bringing with it a fever that left him barely aware of his surroundings most of the time.

There was a loud clatter and the light suddenly went out, though now there was plenty of noise. The sounds of fighting could be clearly heard, grunts of pain and exertion, interspersed with the distinctive sound of flesh striking flesh.

Finally, the noise ceased, and Ned could only wonder what had happened. Several minutes passed before the light appeared once more. The soft scrape of a key being turned in the lock was barely audible over the labored breathing of whomever was approaching his cell.

Finally, the door opened, and Ned was forced to hold up a hand to shield his eyes from the light.

"Ned-sama?" Tenten's voice, though filled with pain, was unmistakable.

The shock drove the breath from Ned's lungs, the sound somewhere between a gasp and a sob. "Tenten."

"Come, I will lead you to safety," she said.

"My children," he began, but she cut him off.

"Arya is safe with Jon. I will get Sansa and Bran, then we will all leave together."

"Thank you." The words, no matter how fervent, weren't enough, but it was all he could offer for now.

* * *

Slynt had reported that Ned-sama had been injured during the fighting, but Tenten had not imagined it would be this bad. The injury itself would not have been too severe, but even in the dim light, she could see that the deep wound had become infected. If he were to have any chance of keeping the arm, or perhaps of surviving at all, the Stark lord would need medical care very soon. For now, however, there was little that she could do. Instead, she helped him to his feet, holding him steady until the dizziness passed, then carefully led him down to the lower level and through the passages.

Fortunately, the path in this section was tall enough that they could walk all the way, unlike some of the other tunnels where an adult would be forced to crawl. Soon enough they emerged in the round chamber.

"Lord Stark!" Jeyne cried, shocked at her lord's frail appearance.

Tenten helped him sit down leaning against a wall. Retrieving one of the bags, she opened it and produced some bread and fruit. "Here is food for you both. There is also a skin of ale. Eat. I will get Sansa and Bran." Her head was still ringing and her arm ached, but she knew that the longer she delayed, the greater the chance they were detected.

_I was overconfident_, the kunoichi realized._ I was overconfident, and it almost killed me._ She let out a rueful sound, half laugh and half moan as the full implications hit her. _And not just me. All the others would have died as well. _Would Jon and Arya have escaped, or would they have waited, refusing to leave without their family until they, too were captured?

Tenten refused to allow herself to think about that. She had a mission to complete.

Despite the throbbing fire that threatened to consume her arm, she forced herself to climb the rungs, one at a time, all the way to the top of the tower. Ideally, she would have simply walked up the wall, but with the pain in her head making it difficult to concentrate, it would not have been wise. A single mistake could have resulted in her falling to her death. Of course, that same fate could await her even now if she were not sufficiently careful during the climb.

Finally, she reached the top, and began crawling slowly through the small tunnel until she reached the grate that opened into the chamber where the Stark children were sleeping fitfully.

It was at this point that Tenten remembered the rope that she would need to lower Sansa down the narrow shaft. The rope that she had left in the bag in the chamber so far below. Groaning softly, she returned the way she had come. Thankfully, going down was easier, and she managed to make the descent without using her injured arm.

She offered no explanation when she reappeared, simply grabbing the rope and repeating the arduous climb to the Hand's chambers.

* * *

How had it all come to this? It was a question that had plagued Sansa's every waking thought for weeks. All of her hopes and dreams had turned to ashes in her mouth. Her father was in the cells charged with treason, Arya was missing, Jeyne had been taken away, their direwolves had been killed, the men and women who had accompanied them south were all dead. Only Bran was still with her, though that was no comfort at all as they cried themselves to sleep each night.

Looking back, she could only laugh at the foolish girl she had been. She had imagined the capital as a wondrous place where she could flourish, unlike the cold, harsh land of the North. But she had been so wrong. She lived in a state of constant fear now. Her only hope was that Robb would come for them. He would call the banners and come to rescue them, just as Father had done when his sister had been taken. _But that didn't save Aunt Lyanna. _Unfortunately, she could not drive that thought away.

A scraping noise emanated from the fireplace, and Sansa looked over to see someone climb out of the hearth. She let out a scream.

* * *

"Sansa, it is Tenten, you are safe!" the kunoichi exclaimed, but it was too late. The damage was already done.

The door burst open, and a massive man in heavy armor, with a horrifically scarred face appeared in the doorway, sword in hand. Despite being caught off guard, he held the sword confidently, his stance steady, proof that he was no amateur. It didn't matter. The man may have been strong and skilled, but he did not have magic, and he was not expecting to fight a superhuman. Skilled as he may have been against a normal foe, he was helpless before Tenten, especially given that she was not in any mood to take chances. She'd learned her lesson down in the cells.

The large man didn't have time to say a word as the kunai seemed to grow out of his face. Tenten was already moving, catching the scarred man before he fell, and carefully lowering him so that his armor would not make a sound as it struck the stone floor.

Looking over at the bed, Tenten was unsurprised to see that Bran was awake as well, both children staring at her wide-eyed. "Get dressed quickly. We must go soon. Leave your possessions, they will only slow us down," she ordered, slumping against the wall as a wave of nausea overwhelmed her, though at least she managed to keep from vomiting.

Both children scrambled to obey.

Soon they were all down in the chamber beneath the Tower of the Hand. Ned-sama greeted his children with tears in his eyes, both of them rushing to embrace their father while Tenten and Jeyne looked on.

Though she regretted breaking up the happy reunion, Tenten knew that their flight would soon be detected, and the soldiers would be searching for them.

"We must go. There is no time to waste."

No one protested. She led them through the dark tunnels, carefully guiding them around the traps and deep pits until they finally arrived at the cave.

Bran was able to climb down easily enough by himself, but with his injured arm, Ned would not be able to do the same, nor would Sansa or Jeyne. With a sigh, Tenten retrieved the rope and tied a series of knots, then helped the Stark lord arrange it so that one loop went around each leg, and one around his torso to hold him firmly in place. Carefully bracing herself, she nodded to the man, who hesitantly leaned out, little by little, his feet pressed against the rock face until he was hanging by the rope.

Ignoring the shooting pain in her arm, Tenten carefully lowered him to the ground, then pulled the rope back up and repeated the feat with Sansa, then with Jeyne. Once the dark-haired girl had reached the bottom, the exhausted kunoichi didn't bother to pull the rope back up. She just let it fall.

When she finally joined the others on the rocky shore below, Tenten took a moment to recover. Still, they couldn't risk being exposed out here for long.

"Stay here, I will get the boat," she said softly.

It wasn't far to the sandy inlet where she had left the dinghy, but given the dark night and rough terrain, it took longer than she would have liked. Finally, she had the small vessel out in the water, and began to row back to where the others were waiting.

Despite his injured arm, Ned helped the three children into the boat then climbed in himself. He moved to take one of the oars, but Tenten refused. "You are badly injured. You must rest."

The kunoichi expected him to protest, but he made no comment as she pulled hard on the oars, propelling the boat out into the bay.

* * *

A/N – As you can see, anyone who gets in the path of hurricane Tenten dies. I'm not even going to try to list off all the butterflies that result from Varys and Littlefinger being dead, though I will highlight a few as they come up later in the story. I do find it amusing that she killed the two most devious schemers just as a 'well, as long as I'm in the neighborhood' type thing – Littlefinger in particular. If he hadn't arranged for Jeyne to be taken to his brothel, Tenten wouldn't have bothered. At the time, she wasn't trying to kill the people that betrayed Ned (or there would have been a much higher body count). She was just rescuing Ned and the other Northerners. Littlefinger was collateral damage. That's what he gets for trying to force Jeyne to be one of his prostitutes.

Also, a quick side note/rant: I find it completely unbelievable when people talk about Sansa being a political supergenius because she learned directly from Littlefinger. That is absolutely INSANE! Let's look at Littlefinger. Yes, he was able to rise to power from humble beginnings. But that power was a shaky house of cards built on a foundation of lies, bribes and blackmail. Everything he did, every move he made was based on exploiting the baser parts of humanity; he preyed on the greedy, the venal and the desperate like a parasite, sucking them dry then killing them only to move on to a new victim. It was all going to come tumbling down sooner or later. So why would people think that someone who learned from him would be a good leader? It's like saying 'this guy must be good at economics, he learned from BERNIE MADOFF' or 'of course this guy knows about quality building construction, he learned from the people who built the nuclear reactor at CHERNOBYL'. The 'education' Sansa would have received is so fundamentally flawed that it would only be useful as an example of what _not_ to do. Rant over.

Thanks to those of you who suggested names for the sword. And thanks to reader LrLlak for the explanation of why 'Shadow' is such a great name for Jon's sword. That was a name that I had thought of as well, but I wasn't really sold on it until I read his or her reasoning – it goes well with Ghost, it's a nice description of the more stealthy role he'll be filling in the future, he already associates shadow with Tenten (he compares fighting her to fighting a shadow when they attack the bandits) and he might know that the leader of a Hidden Village is called a kage (which translates to shadow).

Also, I am fully aware that Tsunade was actually a drunk hobo, to put it bluntly. But there's no way that the rank and file members of Konoha's forces would be told that.


	11. Chapter 11: Escape

Chapter 11: Escape

Jon dashed through the wood after his prey, not hindered in the least by the dim light. He had nearly caught the fleeing doe when he recognized a familiar scent being carried by the wind blowing in from the bay.

_Pack. Mate._

He rushed toward the sea, arriving just as one of the strange, hollow trees landed on the shore. He slowed to a walk, relieved to see that his pack was safe as they climbed out of the floating tree. His mate was last, but as she hopped onto the ground, he could tell that something was wrong. Unlike the grace that she normally displayed – despite only having two legs – now she swayed as she walked slowly out of the shallow water. He ran to her, but he was too late.

Tenten fell to the ground.

* * *

Jon woke with a start. The memories returned to him in a rush, and he felt his blood turn to ice as he recalled the last thing he had seen.

He slept fully dressed just in case of an emergency, something for which he had never been so grateful. He could sense Ghost to the northeast and he raced toward his direwolf, and where his family was waiting.

The pale moonlight was not enough to see the ground clearly, but he didn't care. The possibility of tripping was far outweighed by his need to be sure that Tenten was well.

"What happened?" Jon demanded as he finally burst out of the trees and found his father, Bran, Sansa and Sansa's friend gathered around the fallen form of his lover.

"She was injured while rescuing me," his father said heavily. "She was attacked, and I believe she struck her head somehow. When we arrived onshore, she collapsed." He looked up, and must have seen the stricken look on Jon's face, for he quickly added, "She's still breathing, and I don't see any blood. I expect she will be fine with rest."

Jon fell to his knees next to his friend, taking one of her hands as he studied her carefully, the other hand gently brushing some hair out of her face. It appeared that his father was correct, but he couldn't help the fear still coursing through him. Head wounds were not a minor thing, even without bleeding.

Still, there wasn't much he could do for her now. Instead, he forced himself to focus on the task at hand. "Come, the camp is this way," he said as he gathered the unconscious kunoichi in his arms, then began to walk back into the forest.

* * *

Though the sun had not yet appeared on the horizon, the sky was beginning to grow light when they arrived. Jon was relieved to see that Arya was still sleeping. It was only after he had begun to lead the others back to the wagon that he thought of how his sister might react if she woke to find him gone, but it seemed his fears had been for naught.

"Arya, wake up," he called as they approached.

"Jon?" came the sleepy reply.

"Arya!" His father's voice was hoarse with emotion.

"Father!" His sister threw herself from the wagon and into their father's waiting arms. Sansa and Bran gathered around as well, all of them wrapping their arms around each other.

Ignoring the glad reunion behind him, Jon concentrated on carefully placing Tenten in the wagon, using the bedding that Arya had just vacated to ensure that she was well padded and comfortable. He pulled a blanket over her still form, then pressed a kiss to her forehead. _Please be all right._ It was difficult to tear his gaze from her, and all he could think was that she looked so small and fragile lying there.

He took a deep breath, then turned to look at the others. "We need to go. They probably already know that you are missing. The farther we can travel today, the safer we will be."

"What about Tenten?" Arya asked.

"She was injured, but she's going to be fine, and she's asleep now. I put her in the wagon," Jon assured his sister. _I just wish I could convince myself of that._

Always aware that they might need to leave quickly, Jon had made a habit of keeping the supplies packed in the wagon when they were not in use, so all he had to do was hitch the mules to the wagon, and they were ready to depart. He and his father rode on the bench, while the children piled into the wagon, though he was relieved to see that they took care to give Tenten her space.

He cracked the reins, and the mules jerked forward. He had always imagined that rescuing his family from King's Landing would be the difficult part. But as they made their way over the rough forest ground, he realized that this was just the beginning. The Lannisters would be looking for them, and with Tenten and his father both injured, Jon knew it would be up to him to keep his family safe.

He just prayed that he was up to the task.

* * *

The smell of woodsmoke was the first thing Tenten noticed. She could hear people conversing softly somewhere nearby, and as she listened more closely, she recognized Jon's voice, bringing a smile to her face. She tried to sit up, and almost gasped in shock as the pain hit her. Every muscle in her body ached.

_What? How?_ She slumped back into the mattress, groaning internally as she realized what had happened. _I was using chakra to enhance my strength, but with my head injury, I couldn't control it properly._ She vaguely remembered the teachers at the academy warning the students of the potential dangers of chakra enhancement, one of the many reasons that most ninja didn't learn how to do so until they were genin and had a reasonable ability to regulate their chakra. _I probably had, or maybe still have, a concussion. That would likely make it all but impossible to use chakra safely. I probably tore all of my muscles, like what happens when Lee overuses the Eight Gates. _Despite herself, Tenten couldn't help but feel her respect for her spandex-clad friend increase at this thought, that he was willing to deliberately inflict this level of suffering on his body to push himself to grow.

That realization also led to a curious conundrum. Cycling chakra through the body was one of the quickest ways to repair damaged muscles, which was the key to the rapid growth ninja could experience while undergoing intense training. But if she were concussed, could she do so safely, or would she still struggle to properly regulate the flow of chakra through her muscles? How could she tell if she was mentally well enough?

_Better to play it safe for now,_ she realized. Unless it was a truly desperate situation, she wouldn't use chakra for the next few days. It would be frustrating to be cut off from the strength-enhancing power she had become so accustomed to, but it would be foolish to risk it without an exceptionally good reason.

That decision made, she turned her mind to the other pressing matter – the disastrous fight in the dungeon. As she thought back, she couldn't help but cringe at how foolish she had been. The man had not been a particularly skilled fighter. He moved a little faster than a normal human, not a surprising thing given that most people who had access to chakra and trained in physical combat learned to subconsciously channel that power to augment their body's natural abilities, but his speed was nowhere near the level of a skilled genin, and his actually fighting prowess was… lacking… by her standards. No, she had been overconfident and was caught off guard.

The man had judged it perfectly. Since he made no move to escape the cell when she first opened the door, she had decided he wasn't a threat. And it was at that precise moment, right after she had dismissed him, that he had attacked. Had he made his move a moment earlier, when she was still on guard, she would have cut him down quickly. And had he waited just a bit longer, she would have been able to shut the door before he reached it.

Tenten sighed, frustrated and disappointed in herself. _Rookie mistake. I should know better._ Still, there was no way to change the past. Gai-sensei had always said that there was nothing shameful about defeat, so long as you learned from your mistakes (at least, that's how a normal person would phrase the sentiment – Gai's word choice had included a lot more about youth and not allowing your flames to be extinguished). She may not have been defeated, but it was much to close for comfort. She would learn from this mistake. For too long, she had been complacent with where she was at, convinced that she was far more skilled than any opponent she may face in Westeros. But, clearly, that was not the case.

Deep down, the kunoichi knew that she had gotten lucky. This had been a wake-up call. Many ninja did not survive such experiences.

* * *

"So, we escaped out of the castle," Jon said, enjoying the look of excitement on the faces of Bran and Arya, and even Sansa and Jeyne, as he relayed the tales of his and Tenten's adventure in the Reach. "I was worried that we didn't have any horses, so we would travel much slower, but Tenten kept telling me that we would find horses. Of course, I didn't know at the time that when she said we would 'find' horses, what she really meant was that Renly would send soldiers after us, and we would knock them senseless and then _steal_ their horses."

The children let out a laugh.

"So, I'm hiding in the bushes, and the soldiers are there yelling at Tenten, demanding to know where I am. 'Where's the boy?', the captain kept saying. And Tenten just pretended that she didn't understand, until finally the man got so frustrated her tried to grab her with the other soldiers. Before you could even blink, Tenten had knocked them all unconscious and grabbed their mounts. Then she looked over at me and just smiled as though everything was perfectly normal and called out 'Jon-kun, found horses!'" Jon finished, doing his best to imitate Tenten's accent at the end.

"That is not what I sound like," a familiar voice said playfully from behind him.

Jon turned in shock and relief, but Arya reacted first. "Tenten!" the girl squealed as she dashed over and hugged her friend.

"Be gentle," the kunoichi grunted as the girl impacted her, her face contorting briefly in pain. "My muscles are very sore. Should not have used chakra with a head injury."

"Will you be okay?" Jon asked, concerned.

Tenten nodded reassuringly. "I will be fine. Just need time to recover. Maybe a few weeks." She looked around at the small campsite, nodding approvingly. "How long was I asleep?"

"All day," Arya replied, her voice somewhat muffled as she continued to hold tightly to the older girl.

Jon couldn't help but smile as Tenten rubbed Arya's back gently. "Well, thank you all for taking care of me." Her face grew serious. "How far from King's Landing are we?"

"We pushed the mules as hard as they could go," his father said. "I would estimate we've come a little over ten leagues, though we'll need to slow the pace over the next few days to let them recover."

Tenten nodded. "Half a day's ride for a man on horseback, but the distance we have traveled greatly increases the area the Lannisters must search," she mused. "So, that reduces the chances of them finding us, especially since it will be difficult to track such a small group."

"We just have to hope that we are fortunate enough to evade the Lannister patrols," Father agreed.

"Ned-sama, we should treat your arm. The wound is infected."

His father sighed. "I think it's too late for that."

"We will do what we can," Tenten insisted. "Do we have water?" Jon nodded, confused. "Start boiling some. We can use boiling water to make everything clean, so the wound will not be infected again. And we have wine. That will help to clean the wound as well."

Jon didn't fully understand why boiling the water was important, but he didn't question it. "Do ninja learn about healing, then?"

"Some do," Tenten said with a shrug as she inspected the wagon, finally pulling out the canvas bag with her clothes in it. "When I was younger, I wanted to be like Tsunade-sama. She is now the hokage, the leader of our village. She is a famous healer, and so I wanted to learn, but I was not good enough at controlling chakra to be a healer." She pulled a small wad of pink cloth out of the bag, and Jon felt his heart beat just a little faster as he realized she was holding the incredibly revealing silk trousers (if they could even be called such) she had worn while pretending to be a performer from Lys. "But, still, I learned about how to treat injuries without using chakra. Should be enough for now."

"What do you need that silk for?" he asked as his friend began to carefully pull the fabric apart.

"We will use it to make thread to sew Ned-sama's wound after we have cleaned it," she replied, still focused on her task.

The water had already reached a rolling boil by the time she had finished, and Jon was surprised when Tenten placed a needle and the recently separated thread into the ladle, then slipped a kunai on as well, threading the handle through the ring at the end of the kunai. She then dipped the whole thing in the water, then added a large swath of silk, and another of linen as well. "There are very small creatures that make people sick and cause infections when they are inside the body. So small they cannot be seen without special tools," she explained. "Putting items in the boiling water kills the creatures, so they are safe to use, and there will be no infection. But first, we must cleanse the wound." She looked over at his father, who nodded understandingly.

"Children, you all go over by the wagon," he instructed as he took a seat near the fire.

* * *

Bran wasn't sure what was happening, but it didn't sound pleasant. He wanted to stay, but knew by the tone of his father's voice that now was not the time for argument.

As he left, he could see Tenten wrap some cloth around a stick, which she handed to his father. Bran frowned as he saw his father place the stick in his mouth. _What are they doing?_ He wondered as he stood with the others in the darkness.

A loud grunt sounded from the campfire, and Bran turned to look back where he had come from, just as a muffled scream of pain broke the stillness of the night. He could see Jon holding his father in place, while Tenten seemed to be cutting into his arm with one of her strange knives.

"What are they doing?" Sansa asked, horrified.

Even from a distance and with the dim light from the fire, Bran could see yellow fluid draining out of his father's arm. It looked sickening, and he thought that even from this distance he could smell it, it was so foul.

"They said they have to clean the wound," Arya replied. Bran thought that she was trying to sound braver than she really was. Despite her words, she was staring wide-eyed at the scene by the fire just like the rest of them.

Tenten had put the knife away and had retrieved a piece of cloth from the pot of water. His father let out another scream as she began to rub the arm where the cut was, running the cloth back and forth just like you would in the bath to scrub your skin clean.

Bran felt like he was going to be sick. Scrubbing was bad enough when it was just on your skin. He couldn't imagine how much it would hurt to have someone doing that to a bad cut on your arm. His father let out another muffled cry of pain as Tenten rinsed the cloth out in the pot of water, then returned to scrubbing.

Finally, the cleansing was complete, or so Bran assumed when Tenten put the cloth back in the water. He was surprised when she picked up one of the skins filled with wine, which she poured onto his father's wounded arm, eliciting another grunt of pain.

The foreign woman then picked up the needle and thread, and Bran was horrified to see that she stuck it right into his father's arm. Surprisingly, his father made no sound. The young boy couldn't imagine how this could possibly hurt less than what had happened before, but that was apparently the case.

"Are they sewing his arm shut?" Sansa gasped.

"Maester Luwin had to sew a cut on my forehead shut when I fell out of a tree a few years ago," Arya reminded her.

Bran gulped. He had never heard about that. He'd never imagined what it would be like if he fell while climbing. If that was how painful it could be, maybe he'd have to rethink his desire to climb all the time. He frowned at this thought. _No, I'll just make sure I don't ever fall._ That seemed like a better idea.

At last, Tenten finished sewing, or at least, that's what it seemed like from what Bran could see. She took a step back, then retrieved another piece of cloth from the pot. Pouring more wine on his father's arm, Tenten carefully wrapped the long piece of linen around like a bandage.

"You can all come back now," she called.

Not surprising, Arya went first. "Is he going to be all right?" Bran was surprised at how soft her voice was. Arya was always the boldest and bravest, never afraid of anything. But now, she sounded… scared.

"The cut was very deep, and it has been infected for several weeks," Tenten warned them, "but I think he will recover. I do not know if he will still be able to use the arm well, but I do not believe that he will get sick any more from it."

The young Stark boy looked down at his father, who was pale and covered with sweat, though he managed to give his children a pained smile. "I'll be fine," he promised.

Bran just wished he could believe it.

* * *

Days passed quickly as they traveled west, following the Blackwater upstream. There were many small villages along the banks, but the largely deserted trail they were following was set about a league away from the river, and so, didn't actually pass through any of the little hamlets, enabling them to travel with few people getting close enough to see them. Unfortunately, they did encounter some travelers here and there. Jon couldn't help but eye each person suspiciously as they passed. Doubtless the Lannisters would be looking for them, and all it would take to bring a band of soldiers down on their heads was one person reporting what they had seen in exchange for a purse of gold. Judging by the frowns on the faces of his father and Tenten each time they passed someone traveling in the direction of King's Landing, he wasn't the only one worried about that possibility.

It was shortly after noon on the eighth day that Jon began to feel a growing sense of unease. Frowning, he looked around, but couldn't see anything.

"Jon-kun, what is it?" Tenten asked softly.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I just feel like something is wrong."

He could see her frown, but was pleased to note that she seemed to believe him, for she immediately began searching the area around them.

"I feel it, too," Arya added from behind them.

"You can sense the direwolves," Tenten realized. She grabbed a kunai out of her holster. "Perhaps they smell something."

Jon nodded, his hand going to his sword as he concentrated on his bond with Ghost. He had begun experimenting with his link to the direwolf months ago when Marwyn first suggested he might be a warg. It had taken time, but now he could usually tell what direction and how far away his wolf was. "Ghost is about half a league behind us. I think Nymeria is nearby as well." His eyes shot up, and he stared at his kunoichi friend. "I think there's people following us."

This announcement elicited soft cries of panic from the children, though Tenten and his father were silent. Both, however, looked grim.

"They'd be on horse, and there's no way we can outrun them," his father said reluctantly.

"Then we must fight," Tenten replied without fear. Jon just wished he shared her confidence.

There was no benefit to be gained by pushing the mules any farther, so instead, they stopped the wagon, and Jon and Tenten climbed down, walking about a dozen paces back, with a few paces between them. They drew their weapons, then stood patiently, Jon with his sword, and Tenten with a kunai in each hand.

They didn't have long to wait.

Jon felt a thrill run up his spine as a band of riders appeared out of the trees, most wearing the red cloaks marking them as men-at-arms in the service of house Lannister. Their leader, however, was wearing gold armor, which shone brightly in the sun even from a distance.

_The Kingslayer,_ Jon realized, and he glanced over at Tenten nervously.

"We will win," his lover said softly.

* * *

The oncoming riders slowed to a walk a stone's throw from the duo. Tenten studied the enemy closely. There were nine of them. Most appeared to be regular soldiers, but two were not. The Kingslayer, Jaime Lannister, she recognized from Winterfell, but she had never seen the other man before. Almost certainly a Lannister, given how closely he resembled the most infamous member of the Kingsguard, despite being several years younger. An arrogant smirk was on the young man's face. Tenten would take great pleasure in removing it. The smirk, and the face.

"Stark, I'm disappointed that you decided to forsake our hospitality," Jaime Lannister called as they drew near.

"Spare me your ill attempts at humor, Kingslayer," Ned-sama replied bitterly. "The time for words is over."

"Surrender now, and your children will live," the golden-haired man stated. "Don't surrender, and there is no such promise."

"Or we could just kill you," Tenten pointed out.

The men, still on horseback, laughed at her words. Jaime raised one hand, and his followers fell silent.

"Last chance," the man said.

* * *

Wyl watched as Ser Jaime raised his hand. "That's the signal," he said to his companion, quite unnecessarily, as it turned out, given that Tom was already aiming the crossbow. Wyl followed his example, carefully positioning the heavy weapon so that it would hit the unarmored bastard right in the chest.

He was waiting for his commander to lower his arm, signaling for them to loose, when a soft growl from behind him drew his attention.

Both men looked just as two massive shapes, one grey, the other white, pounced on them.

* * *

Screams sounded from a lightly wooded hill about a hundred paces away, and most of the Lannister soldiers turned to stare in shock.

Tenten and Jon wasted no time.

_When the Kingslayer is dead, the others will run,_ Tenten realized. That wasn't good. If any of the men escaped, they could lead more Lannister forces to the much slower Stark party. _We have to kill them all, which means saving Jaime Lannister for last._ Unfortunately, there was no time to discuss this with Jon. She would just have to hope that his thoughts matched hers.

Tenten rushed forward, covering the distance quickly, ignoring the pained protests of her body as she leaped up and grabbed the first man, dragging him out of the saddle and slitting his throat.

There was a moment of panic from the other men, as they tried to draw their swords and rush at her, but with so many horses in such a small area, none of the riders could control their mounts well enough to maneuver close to attack her without running into their fellows. As they tried to organize themselves, she pounced on another man, ending his life just as quickly.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see that Jon had rushed toward the Kingslayer, a swift slash of his blade, which he kept honed to a razor edge, slicing deep into the neck of the horse the gold armored man was riding. The horse reared back, whinnying pitifully as it fell to the ground, though the knight was quick to jump off and regain his footing.

Fear filled her as Tenten realized that her lover was now fighting the man many considered to be the best swordsman in the Seven Kingdoms. Unfortunately, she had her own enemies to eliminate before she could help him.

Redoubling her efforts, Tenten killed another man, then had to dodge to one side as the other Lannister charged at her. Unfortunately for him, once he had passed, he stopped his horse to turn around, giving Tenten the opening to slash at its flank. The horse reared back, throwing the younger Lannister to the ground, and Tenten kicked him in the face.

Though the blow wasn't enough to kill him, it did stun her enemy. To her surprise, two of the remaining armsmen turned their horses and began to flee, though they didn't get far before being beset by the angry direwolves.

There were only two more enemies still in the fight, though it was clear from the horrified expressions on the men's faces that they wanted nothing more than to run. Unfortunately for them, that wasn't an option.

None of the Lannister men-at-arms had bothered with their full armor, likely for comfort while riding, and Tenten made full use of that oversight. She lashed out with a kunai, the sharp blade cutting right through the first man's hand as he gripped the reins. He screamed in pain and tried to swing his sword at her head, but his angle was wrong, the arm trying to twist awkwardly over his body. Grabbing his wrist, the kunoichi pulled the man out of the saddle. This soldier had a chainmail coif that protected his throat, but his face was still vulnerable. One stab of Tenten's kunai ended his life.

The last soldier had tried to attack the kunoichi while her back was turned, but he wasn't fast enough. Tenten spun and threw one of her kunai, her hard-earned skills ensuring that the heavy blade hit the man squarely in the face.

The younger Lannister was trying to climb to his feet, still clearly disoriented from Tenten's attack. The displaced leaf-nin kicked at his leg, hitting the man in the side of the knee, and he fell to the ground with a scream, one hand reaching down to grab at the ruined joint. He stilled as Tenten seized his long, luxurious hair, pulling his head back and holding a kunai to the exposed underside of his jaw. Though he didn't make any movement, Tenten could hear the lad whimpering softly.

Tenten was relieved to see that Jon was still alive, matching Jaime Lannister blow for blow. _I don't want to interfere with Jon's fight, but maybe threatening his relative will distract the Kingslayer._

* * *

Jaime Lannister bit down on the urge to curse again. _How did the bastard get so good?_ Though the boy's technical skills still needed some work, Jaime was startled to realize that his opponent was, as difficult as it was to believe, actually faster than he was. _Has it really been that long since I had a real fight?_ Guarding the royal tub of lard that his 'goodbrother' had turned into didn't afford many opportunities to develop his skills. When he had the time, Jaime normally trained by fighting four or five of the Lannister guards at the same time, but that was quite different from going up against a solitary opponent of great skill. The only time he had been pushed this hard was in the infrequent spars with Barristan, but the old Kingsguard had never been trying to kill him.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jaime could see his men getting cut down one by one by that surprisingly skilled woman. Still, he didn't think that she would be able to match him, if he could just kill Snow.

His opening finally came, and his blade flashed out, catching the bastard in the left arm, though Jaime snarled when he realized that the wound was not as severe as he would have liked, as his opponent had once again managed to dodge more swiftly than expected, turning what should have been a deep gash that could leave a man weak from blood loss within a minute into little more than a scratch.

It would scare the boy, though. He'd likely not had any real combat experience before, and if Jaime had to kill him one small cut at a time, he'd do it.

The Lannister knight pressed forward quickly, hoping to take his enemy unawares with a sudden charge. A swell of triumphant glee filled him as the boy stumbled, his weapon falling to the ground as he used his hands to regain his balance.

Jaime drew his sword up for a powerful overhand cut that would end the Stark bastard's life when the boy suddenly spun, still on the ground, and lashed a foot out with surprising speed. He managed to jump back in time to avoid being tripped, but Snow used the momentum from his spin to stand once more and leapt toward him.

Caught off balance, the Kingslayer tried to slash at the boy, but his opponent was now too close for such an attack to be effective. The bastard used his left arm to stop Jaime's attack, grappling Jaime's arm while his right came up to punch Jaime in the face.

Jaime had just enough time to realize that Stark's bastard was holding his sword again, in a reverse grip now. Time seemed to slow as the fist drew nearer. He tried to move, but his body just wasn't responding quickly enough. Just before the blow landed, Jaime could see that one of the quillons of the cross-guard was coming directly at his left eye, though whether that was due to the boy's skill or his luck, the Lannister knight didn't know.

He just wished he could have seen Cersei once more.

* * *

As he pulled the sword back, Jon cringed as he caught sight of the ruined hole in the handsome face where a green eye had once been. Still, men had lost eyes before and lived to tell the tale. The fight wasn't over. Shifting to a traditional grip, he swung the sword once more with all his might.

Lannister had been arrogant, not bothering to wear the gorget that normally protected a knight's throat. That proved to be a fatal mistake.

Sansa stared, horrified, as the head rolled across the long grass. She remembered when she and Jeyne had gossiped about how handsome Ser Jaime was. And now, he was dead.

"Jon killed the Kingslayer," her brother whispered, his voice full of awe.

"Jon, that was incredible!" her sister shouted.

Jon fell to his knees, panting. The heavy breaths gradually turned to chuckles, then to full blown laughter, bordering on hysteria.

"Jon-kun," Tenten cried, pulling him into her blood-stained arms and pressing her forehead against his. "You did it." Her words were so soft that Sansa could barely hear.

"I got lucky," Jon said, shaking his head slowly.

"You won. That is all that matters," the foreign woman replied as she helped him to his feet. They slowly made their way back to the wagon, where Jon collapsed. Sansa could see his hands trembling.

"Jon, are you alright?" Arya's voice was full of worry, bordering on horror.

"I'm fine, my arm was cut, but it's not bad," her half-brother replied, still breathing heavily. "I don't know why my hands won't stop shaking."

"When you push your body to the limit, it takes time to calm down," Tenten said. "You will be fine, you just need time."

Suddenly, Bran laughed. Sansa turned to stare at him, wondering what her brother found so funny. "Found horses," he said, mimicking Tenten's accent while pointing across the field to where two of the horses had run off. A third could be seen a little farther away.

Tenten turned to look at Arya. "Arya-chan, want to help me?" she asked with a smile.

Sansa could only sigh at the broad grin on her sister's face.

* * *

The horses were plain, but well-trained, and were likely accustomed to having many different riders. As such, Tenten and Arya were able to retrieve them one at a time, approaching slowly until they were close enough to grab the reins, then lead them back to the wagon, which Ned-sama had moved a little way off from where the bodies lay to prevent the animals from panicking at the heavy smell of blood.

Eventually, all three mounts were tied to the end of the wagon.

"We should move the bodies. Try to hide them in the trees," Tenten remarked as she glanced down at the fallen soldiers.

"Aye, the longer we can keep the Lannisters from learning what happened to them, the better," Ned-sama agreed.

"Father, why don't you take the wagon and keep moving. Tenten and I can keep two of the horses here, and catch up when we're done," Jon advised as he climbed out of the wagon.

Soon, the two of them were the only ones remaining in the meadow. Or, at least, the only two still alive.

"If we strip the bodies and take the clothes, it will make it more difficult for people to identify them," Jon suggested.

"Good idea," Tenten said with a smile. "We should take all the valuables anyway. No reason to leave them behind."

* * *

They caught up with the others an hour later. After tying their horses' reins to the wagon, Jon climbed up on the bench beside his father, while Tenten chose to walk, grateful for a chance to gently exercise her muscles so she could recover faster.

There was little talking. Everyone knew that their situation had become much more dire. Within a few days, when Jaime Lannister and his men failed to return, the other Lannisters would have a general idea of where to search. It was just a matter of time before they were found again. And this time, it would not be just a handful of men chasing them. Their enemies would come in force, both to recapture the Starks, and to avenge the fallen Lannister knight.

They stopped for the night in a small copse of trees. As usual, Ned-sama took first watch. The children piled onto the mattress in the wagon, while Tenten snuggled up next to Jon under a wool blanket. She was vaguely aware when her lover rose to take over for his father, though she quickly fell asleep once again.

The sky was still dark, though the stars were shining brightly overhead when Tenten felt Jon gently shaking her awake. She sat up, yawning as she stretched. The moon was barely visible, a slim crescent hanging above the dark horizon.

Finally, she stood. To her surprise, however, rather than climbing into the bedroll she had just vacated, Jon took a deep breath.

"I have an idea, but I'm not sure if it's possible. We know that the Lannisters will be looking for us on the south side of the Blackwater." He paused for a moment. "Do you think that we would be able to build a raft and float to the north bank? They would keep searching for us down here, but we would be across the river. I doubt they would ever consider that we could have crossed, which means we would be safe."

Tenten considered this. It was a clever idea, provided they could make a sturdy raft. The Blackwater Rush was not a small river, with a swift current that could easily spell doom for anyone unlucky enough to fall in part way through the crossing.

"I think we could," she replied slowly. "We have an ax, and rope. We would need to find a grove of trees closer to the river, and still far away from a village so nobody could see us. But I think we can find a place like that."

"We can speak with Father about it tomorrow. He's more familiar with this part of Westeros than we are," Jon said.

"I think it is a smart idea," Tenten replied, then pressed her body up against Jon's. "I was very afraid when I saw you fighting the Kingslayer. But you won. You have become an amazing swordsman." She kissed him passionately, smiling a little to herself as she felt Jon begin to react. So close to his family, they hadn't felt comfortable engaging in any nighttime activities. _Perhaps if we can cross the river, Jon and I can slip away for some time alone together,_ Tenten thought.

Finally, she pulled away, though it was with no small amount of reluctance. "Sleep well, my Jon-kun."

* * *

Not surprisingly, Jon's father agreed with his idea the next morning when they spoke of it.

"Beside the bridge at King's Landing, there is only one real crossing over the Blackwater Rush," Ned-sama said thoughtfully, using a stick to sketch a rough map in the dirt. "A few days' ride from the capital, a large tributary that drains from the God's Eye, sometimes called the Godswater, joins the Blackwater. The bridge is perhaps forty leagues upstream of that, where the Gold Road crosses the river then leads into the Westerlands."

"And where are we?" Tenten inquired.

"I believe that we are a short distance upstream of the confluence," Ned replied, though with some hesitation. "We would need to make certain of that, for it is likely that the Lannisters will have guards watching the bridge where the Gold Road crosses the Godswater. Similarly, it is likely that they also have men stationed at the bridge over the Blackwater. If we can cross somewhere between the two, while they still believe us to be south of the river, we could, in all probability, travel the rest of the way to Riverrun unmolested."

"Slynt said that a Lannister army was being raised to attack the Riverlands, but I do not know any more about that," Tenten stated.

The Stark lord shook his head disbelievingly. "How they think they can get away with this, I do not know. Surely people will not stand for what they have done. They can't possibly justify it."

Tenten shared a look with Jon, both hesitant to reveal what they had learned. "According to Slynt," Tenten began, "The Lannisters claim that you began the war by trying to oppose Joffrey."

"Of course I opposed Joffrey, he's not Robert's son," Ned snapped.

"They say that it was for a different reason," Jon replied softly, glancing over at the wagon where the children were breaking their fast.

"What other reason could there be? My daughter was to wed the crown prince. She would one day be queen. Why would anyone believe that I would start a war with the Iron Throne in such a situation?"

"Ned-sama," Tenten said, sighing. "They claim that Sansa was found being intimate with a knight, so Joffrey decided to end the betrothal. But you wanted your daughter to be queen, so you then ordered your men to take the royal family captive to force Joffrey to marry Sansa."

"I would never!" Tenten looked over to see Sansa staring at them, horrified. "I would never be unfaithful to my husband, even before we were wed."

"We know," Jon assured her. "But the problem is, that is what the Lannisters have told everyone."

To say that Sansa was distraught was an understatement. Though she had never had any sort of experience even close to that, Tenten could imagine how the girl felt, being falsely accused of such things before the entire realm. Still, there was no comfort she could offer.

"When we get to Riverrun, we will send out ravens to proclaim the truth," Ned-sama vowed, his voice as cold as ice. "All of Westeros will know of the Lannisters' perfidy." His face may have been carved from stone, though his eyes blazed with fury. "Jon, ride out and scout the river. Find a place we can build a raft to cross. We will travel to Riverrun, and I shall call the banners of the North to put an end to the Lannisters' treachery."

"Yes, father," Jon replied, nodding in acknowledgement as he began to gather some provisions to take with him.

"The Lannisters speak often of paying their debts," the dark-haired man said darkly. "They owe us a great deal. And Tywin will find that this is one debt even he cannot pay easily."

* * *

They continued their travel that day, following the rough trail west away from King's Landing. Jon finally returned shortly before nightfall, reporting a large grove of trees on the bank of the river several leagues upstream. If they pushed the mules, they should arrive the next night.

Fortunately for them, they made the journey without any sign of the Lannisters.

"I've never actually made a raft before," Jon admitted as he looked at the thicket of tall trees.

"Neither have I," Tenten replied. "But, I think we can figure it out. First, we must cut trees. I will start," she said, hefting the heavy wood axe.

* * *

It took all night, a feat greatly hampered by the almost non-existent moon, but by morning, they had two dozen logs prepared, the branches cut off near the trunk so they could be tied together with only small gaps in between.

By then, Jon was exhausted, and even Tenten was looking tired, but they managed to push the logs into position. Arya and Bran helped feed the ropes through the gaps between the trees, allowing them to lash the heavy logs together, with two smaller logs used as crosspieces. They finished shortly before noon.

"Do you really think this will work?" Arya asked as she looked at the crude raft they would use to cross the mighty river.

"Of course it will work," Tenten replied immediately. Jon wished he could be so sure.

It took all of the horses and mules working together to drag the raft over the ground toward the river, and even more work to get the wagon securely onboard. Lord Stark had come up with the idea of wrapping cloth around some of the larger branches at the fork, to form makeshift paddles.

They carefully led the mules aboard, tying them securely to the wagon, which was, itself, tied to the raft. There wasn't room for the horses, so they would have to swim. Long ropes were tied to their leads, and Jon just hoped that they would stay close enough to the raft to allow plenty of slack. If they ever got far enough away that the ropes were pulling on the animals, it could impede their ability to swim, and they might drown.

There wasn't any other choice, though, so they would have to risk it.

* * *

As they pushed off from the bank, Ned offered a silent prayer to the gods that they would reach the other shore safely. If the raft were to capsize, it could very well mean the death of his children. He doubted that any of them, perhaps not even Jon, were strong enough swimmers to make it back to land.

Everyone paddled with all their might, even Ned himself, though he was under no delusions that he added much, given that his right arm was still almost completely devoid of strength. At times, it seemed that they were not making any progress, but they toiled on, nevertheless. And finally, to his great relief, they reached the steep, muddy bank on the north side of the river.

Getting the wagon up onto dry ground was more difficult than he had imagined. The wheels stuck in the thick mud, and even with all the animals straining their hardest, they were unable to pull it up the slope. In the end, they were forced to unload their supplies, then, with the animals pulling and Jon and Tenten pushing from below, they slowly managed to force the cumbersome wain out of the riverbed and onto the grassy plain.

Ned watched as Tenten, not wanting to leave the rope behind, or leave clues for any pursuers, untied the knots holding the logs together and pushed them out into the river, coiling the rope around her arm as she returned to where the others were waiting.

"We should be safe from the Lannisters now," she remarked with a smile. "It was a good idea, Jon-kun."

"I'm just glad it worked," Jon said, voice filled with obvious relief.

"Tenten is right, it was a clever idea," Ned responded, taking a moment to observe his adopted son. Jon had truly become a man. And not just in the sense of having laid with a woman, though he was sure that was also the case. Thankfully, Jon and Tenten were not acting on their love for each other with the children so near, but it was clear to anyone who paid attention to them. "You should be proud, just as I am proud of you."

Ned almost felt guilty at the surprised look on Jon's face at these words. _Have I never told him that before? _He hoped that he had, though he couldn't deny that in the interest of keeping the peace with his wife, he had not been as demonstrative of his approval for Jon as he perhaps should have been. That firmed his resolve even more. _It is past time that Jon knew the truth._

He just had to figure out how to broach the subject.


	12. Chapter 12: Riverlands

Chapter 12: Riverlands

His arms ached, the sun beat down on him and the sweat was getting in his eyes, but nothing could erase the wide smile from Bran's face.

"Good," Jon said as he blocked the final blow. "You're getting better at maintaining your stance when you strike. Now, I'm going to attack. Concentrate on your guard positions. I'll go slowly so that you have time to see where I'm aiming. Make sure that you use the correct guard for each attack, or you'll train yourself to do it wrong. Are you ready?"

Bran brought the sword up in a standard middle guard stance, with the hilt near his waist and the sword pointing toward his brother's upper torso. "Ready," he replied firmly.

Jon's sword began moving instantly, though at about half speed, as promised. Bran could see the blade coming toward his right shoulder and moved to parry. The blades clashed, and Bran had to grab tightly to hold his weapon in place. Abruptly, the pressure on his sword vanished as Jon withdrew to attack from a different angle. This time, the attack was a thrust at his left side, which Bran blocked once more. A cut to his left immediately followed, which the boy again successful repelled, careful to spin the tip of his blade in a small circle as he had been taught to get his blade inside of the attack, pushing the oncoming sword out away from his body.

"Excellent work, Bran," Jon praised as they continued. Those were the last words either spoke for several minutes as they continued their exercise, with Jon gradually increasing his speed. Finally, Jon halted his attacks, and Bran returned to the middle guard position he preferred. His arms felt like lead, and he could see the tip of the blade wavering as he struggled to hold it steady, but he refused to give up. He knew that Jon was testing him.

"And relax," his brother said, and Bran let the blade drop with a sigh, though he didn't actually let it hit the ground. He carefully sheathed the sword and watched as Jon did the same with his weapon, once more a little jealous at the impressive scabbard Jon wore on his back.

_A sword isn't that heavy to carry, but having to hold it in position is exhausting,_ the boy thought wearily as he moved his hands this way and that to stretch his wrists, which had begun to get a little sore by the end. Still, it was nice to have the opportunity to use a real sword. It made him feel like a true warrior. Jon, of course, had his sword that he had taken from the bandits in the Kingswood, and Bran was using one of the arming swords from the Lannister soldiers Jon and Tenten had killed. Naturally, even an arming sword was still too heavy for him to him to use with one hand, so he was using a two-handed grip, as though it were a longsword, but that worked well with what he had learned from Ser Rodrik in Winterfell.

"You did very well today, Bran."

Bran looked over to see his father watching them with a small smile on his face. The Stark boy flushed a little at the praise. "Thank you, Father."

Father and Jon shared a brief look, then Jon began to walk over to where Arya was practicing with Tenten, the two girls sparring with sticks about as long as the strange daggers Tenten used.

"I think the mules have had enough time to rest, so we'll hitch them to the wagon again. Would you like to help me?"

"Yes, Father," Bran replied, though he was still a little tired from the swordplay with Jon. Still, it was nice to be able to spend time with his father. As Lord Paramount of the North, and as Hand of the King later, his father had always been busy, with a dozen different demands on his time each day. Now, however, it seemed that they had all the time in the world as they slowly crossed the rolling hills of the south Riverlands.

"I meant what I said." Bran looked up to see his father smiling approvingly at him. "Your skill with a sword is improving greatly."

"Well, I _am_ learning from the greatest swordsman in Westeros," Bran replied as though it were obvious.

"The greatest swordsman in Westeros?" his father repeated, some humor in his voice.

"Everyone said the Kingslayer was the best, but Jon beat him, so that means Jon is the best, right?"

"How skilled a man is with a sword doesn't always work quite like that," his father cautioned with a smile, "but, yes, Jon is very talented."

"I'm going to be as good as he is someday," Bran vowed.

Father laughed, and rubbed the top of Bran's head, mussing his hair. "If you keep practicing like you did today, I'm sure you will."

* * *

It was very strange how much could change in just a few days. When they had been on the south bank of the Blackwater, knowing that the Lannisters could catch up to them at any moment, everyone had been afraid – except for Tenten, of course. She wasn't afraid of anything. But now that they had escaped from their pursuers, everything was different. Though she knew that she should be sad at so many of her father's men dying, Arya just couldn't deny that this was the most fun she'd ever had. Free from the need to act like a 'proper' lady, she got to spend the time riding one of the horses or learning how to fight from Tenten.

She had been a little bit jealous that Bran got to use a real weapon while she and Tenten were practicing with sticks, but her teacher had pointed out that fighting with short weapons like kunai required much more practice. Having your hand just a few inches away from where it should be when trying to block an attack could mean that your fingers get cut off, which wasn't as likely of a problem with a sword due to the much longer blade.

Tenten had said that Arya was getting skilled enough that they would switch to live steel soon, something Arya was looking forward to eagerly.

Jon approached Tenten and they spoke quietly for a moment. Arya looked over to the wagon, where Bran was helping their father hitch the mules to the leads. Though she was sad that Father had been injured, it was clear that his health was improving every day. He would likely not ever be able to use a sword again, but at least his arm was healing properly now.

Soon, Father and Bran had finished their task. To her surprise, her brother climbed onto the seat next to Father, rather than riding in the back like normal. Sansa climbed awkwardly into the back, and Jeyne was, as always, waiting in the wagon, huddled in one corner as though hoping no one would see her.

Arya turned to look behind her, smiling as Nymeria came into view. Her direwolf came and went as she pleased, but Arya was beginning to develop the ability to sense where she was, which, based on what Jon had learned at the Citadel, was the first step in learning to become a warg. She felt a little bad that Summer had died, so Bran couldn't learn how, but that wasn't going to stop her.

"I'm going to ride Almond," she announced as she began walking over to the brown horse and untied the lead from the tree. Her father nodded as though he had expected her to say that. He probably did. She certainly preferred riding a horse over riding in the wagon. Even back at Winterfell she hadn't been allowed to ride as much as she would like, and she hadn't even touched a horse while they were in the capital.

Yes, Arya thought as she pulled herself up into the saddle, even though they were fleeing for their lives, she had to admit deep down that she actually preferred this to the months they had spent in the Red Keep.

That wasn't to say everything was perfect. A small frown crossed her lips as she spied Jon and Tenten riding away from the much slower wagon. It just wasn't fair.

Despite her skill on a horse, Father refused to let her go out scouting with Jon and Tenten. He kept claiming that it was long, boring work, and she would not enjoy it, but she knew that wasn't the truth. After all, her brother and sort-of-sister were always excited anytime they left the camp. Some mornings it seemed that they could hardly wait to leave, constantly glancing at each other with furtive smiles as they hurriedly broke their fast, then climbed on the horses and galloped away. And when they returned, they were always in a good mood. Jon especially, though Arya had also noticed that Tenten often had a satisfied smirk on her face.

Clearly, scouting was much more fun than her father would ever admit.

* * *

Lord Stark snapped the reins to urge the mules forward, and Jeyne struggled not to flinch. She had heard that sound many times in the past weeks, though before, it had been made by leather hitting not the flesh of animals, but, rather, of her and the other girls being held by Baelish.

Try as she might, she couldn't forget everything that had happened, everything that had been done to her. Lord Stark tried to be kind to her, but even though she knew and trusted him, to an extent, she couldn't help the fear she felt when she saw him looking at her. _Stay quiet. Stay unnoticed._ It was the lesson she had learned in the basement. Don't do anything to draw _their_ attention.

Not for the first time, she found her eyes drifting toward Arya, who had mounted the brown horse and was now riding beside the wagon. She had always been so horrid to the younger Stark girl, frequently insulting her when only Sansa or one of the other girls were around, but now, she couldn't help but wonder what might have happened if she had been strong like the girl she had called 'Horseface'. Perhaps it could have prevented Jeyne from becoming _Whoresface_. That was a bitter thought, but nothing Jeyne could do would drive it away.

Sansa had tried speaking to her, but it was clear her friend had no idea what to say. And though she would never say so where anyone could hear, Jeyne was glad that the red-headed girl had stopped trying to make conversation. _It's her fault._ She wouldn't tell Lord Stark, but it didn't change what she knew.

* * *

_I deserve this._ That was the one thought the kept echoing through Sansa's mind. She would never say a word of complaint, no matter how unpleasant the situation. Not because of the lesson her mother taught her long ago that a lady doesn't complain. No, she had a better reason now. She deserved to suffer. Because it was all her fault.

It was that thought that drove her on each day. Her skin was burned from the long hours in the sun; in some places it seemed so red that it almost matched her hair. Her legs and arms ached, even though most of her time was spent in the wagon. She had always looked down on Arya for spending her time running around like a boy, rather than engaging in appropriate, ladylike pursuits. But Arya was prepared for the hardship they now faced. Sansa was not.

Would she ever work up the courage to tell her Lord Father what she had done? The guilt was tearing her up inside, but she just couldn't find the words. And what if he was so angry that he left her behind? She wasn't strong like Arya. If she were forced to fend for herself in this unknown land, it would surely be the death of her.

_But isn't that what you deserve? You killed so many of his men. Why should you be safe and alive when they are dead?_ Sansa winced at this thought, though it was not the first time it had come to her mind. Despite all the trouble that her wild younger sister had caused back at home, even Arya had never done something so horrible.

_At Riverrun, _the girl finally decided. _I'll tell Father what I did when we reach Riverrun. That way, if he decides to banish me from Winterfell, I can stay with Mother's family._

Until then, she would just endure.

* * *

Weeks passed, and empty plains slowly gave way to forests. With no sign of any pursuers, Ned had finally begun to relax, knowing that every league they traveled brought them closer to safety. The atmosphere in the camp each night was much more pleasant now, as well. While Sansa and Jeyne were usually silent and withdrawn, something that Ned just didn't know how to fix, Arya and Bran were always in good spirits these days, and even the normally solemn Jon was usually smiling, though in his case that could have more to do with how frequently he and Tenten went out for time alone together.

Each night when the small party stopped to make camp, they ate dinner gathered around the fire, laughing and telling stories. It was strange to have such pleasant times in the midst of a truly horrible situation. And yet, Ned found that he was enjoying the opportunity to spend time with his children, something that always seemed to be lacking with the normal duties of life demanding his attention.

As he finished his stew and leaned forward to refill his bowl, he glanced over at the log where his children and Jeyne were sitting. He had to suppress a smile at the sight of the three girls watching Jon and Tenten intently. Though the pair were thankfully very discreet when it came to their romantic activities, they made no effort to hide the fact that they were in a relationship. Even now, they sat side by side on a large stone, with Tenten leaning against Jon's side, her head on his shoulder, while Jon had his arm around her, his hand resting on her side, his thumb gently caressing her. It was clear even at a glance that they were in love and drew pleasure and comfort simply by being near each other.

Ned was especially amused by the curious, almost confused look on his younger daughter's face. Arya had always railed against the idea of marriage, and yet, now seemed to be wondering if perhaps it wasn't as bad as she had previously thought. _Though, Arya's displeasure with marriage may have had more to do with the idea that she would lose all her freedom,_ Ned realized. He frowned at this thought. He and Catelyn certainly hadn't done anything to change her mind on that front. And yet, what options did he have? Even in the North, there were certain things that were expected of a noble house. He could defy tradition, of course, but that decision would bring with it other consequences. With some effort, he put the thought from his mind. It was a problem for another day.

* * *

The next day, around noon, they first heard, then saw, the Blackwater Rush. Even so many leagues upstream, it was still a mighty river, fed by the many streams and small rivers that covered the lands in these parts. Fortunately, a sturdy wooden bridge had been built along the trail at the confluence of the headwaters.

"Which way shall we go, Father?" Jon asked in a low voice after they had crossed, frowning as he looked at the fork in the road.

"If we go north, we will reach Tumblers Falls, or if we continue west, we will arrive at Stoney Sept," Ned replied. "As for which is better…" his voice trailed off as he thought.

Arya perked up. "Stoney Sept? Where you fought the Battle of the Bells?"

Ned suppressed a smile. Of course Arya would remember a battle. "Aye," he said simply. "And I think that would be the better course for us to take. Stoney Sept is a little farther out of the way, so if the Lannisters have indeed invaded the Riverlands, it is unlikely that they would have diverted their army so far south. Tumblers Falls may not have been so fortunate. And the people of Stoney Sept may remember me, and be willing to aid us."

"Will you tell us about the battle?" Bran asked.

Ned sighed. Those were painful memories. But his children had a right to know. "I'll tell you about that battle, and about the Rebellion when we stop for the night," he promised. _And if I am already speaking of the Rebellion, then there is no more reason to delay in telling Jon the truth._ He had put it off for too long already.

Fortunately, he had several hours to plan exactly what he would say.

* * *

As night fell, the members of their party quickly went about their regular tasks, setting up the camp and preparing food. The sun had already set by the time they finished eating, and the moon had not yet risen, leaving the small campfire the only source of light. Tenten watched as Ned-sama stared into the flames. He had been unusually pensive ever since he had agreed to tell them about the battle he had fought in the nearby town, which surprised the kunoichi. She understood that he had likely lost associates, possibly even friends during the battle, but still, even grief over departed brothers-in-arms did not explain his strange reluctance to relay the tale to his children. But with Jon and his half-siblings all looking at their father expectantly, she knew it was only a matter of time before the man began to speak, and she would finally have her answers.

As though he could somehow perceive her thoughts, it was just then that the Stark Lord opened his mouth. "I know I don't speak much about Robert's Rebellion. It was a painful time for me. But that is not the only reason," he said heavily. "For the rebellion was also the source of my greatest secret, which I have never dared tell anyone. But my reasons for keeping that secret are now gone, and you deserve to know the truth."

Even though Ned-sama had paused to gather his thoughts, no one spoke. He had yet to truly begin his tale, but the tone of his voice left no doubt that whatever this great secret may be, it had weighed heavily on the man for many years.

"I was in the Vale when I heard reports that my sister Lyanna had been taken by Prince Rhaegar," he began. "My elder brother Brandon had already left for King's Landing, accompanied by a number of young men about our age from the North, the Vale and the Riverlands. One of the men accompanying him was my good friend Elbert Arryn, who I knew well from my time fostering at the Eyrie.

"Aerys had them all imprisoned, and sent out summons, demanding that their fathers present themselves before the Iron Throne. My father was already in the Riverlands, traveling to Riverrun for the wedding between my brother and your mother."

Tenten quirked an eyebrow at that bit of news. _Cat-sama was supposed to marry Ned-sama's brother? That must have been awkward._ Not for the first time she found herself questioning the betrothal practices so common in Westeros.

"When my father arrived in court as commanded, Aerys had his guards seize him, putting all of the men who had accompanied him to the sword." Ned-sama's voice was low and somber as he stared into the flames. "My father was accused of high treason against the crown, the penalty for which was death. My father demanded the right to a trial by combat, according to the law. And Aerys agreed, after a fashion. When my father appeared, fully armored, Aerys ordered him bound and had him suspended from the rafters. He declared that the champion of House Targaryen would be fire itself, and instructed his pyromancers to build a large pyre beneath my father, slowly burning him to death. Brandon was forced to watch, a cruel device affixed to his neck so that as he struggled to save our father, it tightened, and he suffocated.

"After that, Aerys sent a raven to the Eyrie, demanding the heads of myself and Robert Baratheon. Jon Arryn refused, and instead called his banners. Not all of the Lords of the Vale agreed to rise up against the Targaryens, so Robert and Jon were forced to fight a coalition of loyalists at Gulltown. I, however, had taken a different route through the Mountains of the Moon, and though the journey was long and harrowing, I returned safely to Winterfell, where the armies of the North were already beginning to gather.

"When the Lords of the North had all assembled, we marched south with as much haste as we could manage. Robert, by that time, had returned to the Stormlands and rallied his forces, though with the Crownlands to the north and the Reach to the west, he was forced to leave a sizeable portion behind to guard Storms End and other important keeps. They marched northwest to bypass the Crownlands and join with the men of the Vale and the Riverlands. The vanguard of the Reach armies, led by Randyll Tarly, gave chase, so Robert commanded the bulk of his forces to continue the march while he and a smaller force comprised of mostly cavalry engaged Tarly near Ashford.

"Though Ashford was a tactical loss for our side, it was a strategic victory, allowing most of the men of the Stormlands to reach the Riverlands safely. Many times, loyalist forces from the Crownlands sent out small parties, both to find the fleeing Stormlander army, and to probe for weaknesses. Robert met these men with highly mobile forces of his own, destroying them and allowing the much slower foot, which comprised the bulk of his army, to continue unhindered."

Ned-sama paused for a moment. "The reign of Aerys had not been a good one for the people in this region. After he was held captive at Duskendale, he lost whatever sanity he had, and began to see enemies all around. As the only major settlement on the Blackwater beside King's Landing, Aerys began to suspect that traitors were using Stoney Sept as a rallying point, and that they would one day sail down the Blackwater to attack him. Because of this fear, the Crown put in place a number of austere measures that severely impacted the southern Riverlands. Because of this, when Robert was injured after one of his ambushes went awry, the people of Stoney Sept were willing to aid him however they could. Robert ordered the soldiers accompanying him to ride to Riverrun with all haste, then led the pursuers off another way, taking refuge in Stoney Sept, where the citizens hid him and did their best to treat his wounds.

"And so, when I arrived at Riverrun, it was to learn that Robert was trapped in Stoney Sept with a large loyalist force surrounding the town to prevent escape, and the bulk of their forces just days away. We marshalled our men with all haste, then I, Jon Arryn and your grandfather Hoster Tully marched south to aid Robert. We arrived shortly after the main Targaryen force, under the command of the Hand of the King, Jon Connington. His forces had already swarmed into the city, and were searching each building to find Robert.

"Battle… is not a glorious thing at any time, no matter what you may have heard in the stories. But a battle in the middle of a town, fought in the streets and alleyways between buildings… it is the stuff of nightmares. It was impossible for a large force to advance through the narrow paths, so instead, the army was split into small bands of men, pushing forward as they could. You never knew if a loyalist force would suddenly emerge from the building you just passed, or if you would turn a corner to see archers waiting…

"The fighting was brutal on both sides, each desperate for victory. I led a force of about two hundred toward the center of the town. Connington had taken many hostages in an attempt to force the townspeople to surrender Robert, and we paused to free them so they could flee to safety. After that, we continued our advance, meeting up with a group of Valemen led by Denys Arryn. I was… I was just a stone's throw away when a large band of loyalists swarmed out of a nearby house, taking Denys by surprise. At the same time, archers on a nearby roof began to attack, destroying any hope for the Valemen to maintain fighting as a group. Confused and scattered, they were easy prey for the attacking Targaryen soldiers. When I saw what was happening, I ordered my force to advance, but we were too late, and I saw one of my oldest friends cut down like an animal."

"We won the day, though the price was high. Your grandfather was badly wounded, and I would have been killed if not for Martyn Cassel, Jory's father. We returned to Riverrun, where I wed your mother, and sent word to Winterfell for more men to be assembled. In response, loyalist forces led by Prince Rhaegar marched north to seize control of the crossroads, hoping to cut Jon and I off from the reinforcements. We arrived first, and took up a defensive position on the north bank of the Trident, intent to hold our ground until the reinforcements arrived. Rhaegar, however, had more men than we did, and knew that to delay would only give us time to gather our strength. He attacked across the river, and he and Robert met in combat, with the battle raging all around them. Robert was wounded, but Rhaegar was killed, the rubies in his armor falling into the water and giving the ford the name it has today.

"With Robert wounded, Jon took command of those men too injured or exhausted to carry on, while I pushed forward with as many soldiers as could march to harry the fleeing loyalist force as they retreated back to King's Landing. We arrived to find the Lannisters had entered the city under false pretenses and then betrayed the loyalists, slaughtering the men they had promised to aid. Princess Elia, Princess Rhaenys, and Prince Aegon were cruelly murdered on Tywin's orders, and Jaime Lannister betrayed and murdered his king.

"After order was restored again in King's Landing, and Robert had been crowned King, I traveled south, both to look for my sister, and to arrange for the Reach forces to withdraw from Storm's End, which they had been besieging ever since Ashford. The second was accomplished easily enough, but finding Lyanna was not so simple. Eventually, I received word from one of my scouts that had learned that Rhaegar had joined with the Dornish force in the Prince's Pass. Accompanied by a small band of men to move with all possible speed, I raced south, and eventually found my way to a small keep which Rhaegar had called the Tower of Joy. Three members of the Kingsguard were there, and a bitter fight ensued. Though we were seven and they were three, our opponents were all skilled warriors, and in the end, only Howland Reed and I survived, though I was injured.

"Despite my wounds, I entered the tower, and found my sister Lyanna lying on a bed, with blood all around her. She told me the truth, that she had not been taken by force…"

The Stark lord shook his head sadly. "So much death and destruction…" He sighed, then continued his bitter tale.

"Lya had just given birth when I arrived, but there was no midwife to aid her, so she had taken ill. She was dying, but her concern was not for herself, but for her babe, for she knew that any child of Rhaegar would be hunted and killed by any seeking to win favor with Robert. 'Promise me, Ned' she said, and I did as she asked. I swore that I would protect her son." For the first time since he had begun talking, Ned-sama's eyes turned away from the fire, looking at Jon instead. "And so I took my nephew back to Winterfell with me, and claimed that he was my own, a natural son that I had fathered during the war."

"Wait, Jon is…" The shock made Bran's voice even higher than normal.

Ned-sama nodded somberly. "Jon is not your brother, he is your cousin. Though," he added, looking once more at Jon, "that does not change the fact that I love you as though you were my own."

"Does that mean that Jon is the rightful King?" Sansa asked.

This seemingly innocent question was the final straw for Tenten. _I seduced a claimant to the throne._ "I did not know," she whispered, eyes wide. "I was not trying to…"

"I don't want to be king!" Jon exclaimed at the same time.

While the others seemed confused by Tenten's panic, Ned-sama apparently understood. "You love Jon, I know," he said reassuringly. "And, no, Sansa, I do not believe it correct to say that Jon should be the King. If thrones can be won through conquest, they can be lost the same way, and the Targaryens lost their crown." He turned to Jon. "I am glad that you feel that way. Some in your situation might think it was their birthright. Much harm has been caused by men who thought that kingship was their right, rather than a solemn duty to which they are bound."

Jon nodded in acknowledgement of his father… no, his _uncle's_ words, but it was clear that his mind was somewhere else. "So Robert's Rebellion was all for nothing? The whole thing was all because of a… misunderstanding?" Jon's voice was horrified. _Understandable,_ Tenten thought, _given that he just learned that he was, from a certain point of view, responsible for so much death and destruction._

"No," came the unwavering reply. "Lyanna's disappearance may have been the initial spark that lit the flame, but the Rebellion did not truly begin until Aerys cruelly murdered hundreds of innocent men, and demanded the deaths of others."

"What does that mean for Jon now?" Arya wondered.

"I have had some thoughts on that. Even before this conflict with the Lannisters began, I had planned to rebuild Moat Cailin. As the fortress guarding the Neck, it is one of the most important keeps in the North, and I need someone in whom I have complete trust holding it. I can think of no one better than you to serve as the Lord of Moat Cailin, Jon."

With all these shocks, Jon looked as though a stiff breeze might blow him over. "Thank you, Fath… Uncle," he finally said humbly. "To be one of Robb's bannermen is all I ever wanted."

"And, of course, such an important military position would need a Lady who is no stranger to the difficulties of war," Ned-sama added, glancing over at Tenten.

Jon seemed to take the hint. Though she had expected that it would happen sooner or later, Tenten still felt a thrill run up her spine as he took her hands, eyes shining with love. "Would you do me the honor of becoming my lady?"

"I do not care about being a lady of a castle," Tenten replied with a smile. "But I will be your wife." She leaned forward and kissed him passionately, ignoring Bran and Arya's disgusted protests.

* * *

Hours later, the children were all asleep, though Ned, Jon and Tenten remained awake, talking quietly over the embers of the campfire.

"Why didn't she say anything?" Jon asked softly. "My mother. Why didn't she say anything before she left with the prince?"

"I don't know," Ned replied, his voice no louder than his nephew's. It was something he had wondered many times over the years. "My father had long attempted to increase our ties to the south, which is why I was fostered in the Vale, and Brandon and Lya were both betrothed to Southrons. I expect that if he had learned Lya had somehow gained the interest of the future king that he would have approved. And Rhaegar had no need to remain hidden. He was the crown prince! Why they felt the need to disappear without any explanation, I have no idea. When I found her, Lyanna was barely coherent, fixated solely on ensuring that you were protected. Whatever reasons she and Rhaegar had for their actions died with them." He sighed. "I do know that she was not pleased with her betrothal to Robert. But as I said, if she wanted to be free from the betrothal, why would she vanish, rather than informing our father of the prince's interest?"

"Would he have forced her to marry Robert Baratheon even if she did not agree?" Jon inquired.

Ned had wondered the same thing many times. He had also had similar thoughts regarding Arya. "I do not know. It is easy to say that children have a duty to help strengthen their families through marriage, but if the children do not want to follow their parent's orders…" He shook his head. "I do not know how far my father would have gone to ensure that his… arrangements… were brought to fruition."

"And what about Arya?" The expression on Tenten's face was neutral, but Ned could tell that this was not an idle question. "Will she be betrothed? And if she refuses, what will you do?"

"I intend to find someone who will recognize the wonderful young woman that Arya is, rather than expect her to behave like… well, like Sansa," Ned replied. He was avoiding the question, he knew, but it was the best answer he could give. "Not all marriages begin with love. That takes time and effort. When I married Catelyn, I barely knew her, but over the years our bond has strengthened into true love. I hope that the same will happen with all my children."

"To force her to marry against her will is rape. It is that simple." Tenten's voice was as hard and unforgiving as iron. "I know that sometimes with nobles, they marry someone they would not prefer to wed, and they must do the best they can to make the marriage work. If Arya agrees to a betrothal, I will say nothing. But if she objects, I will not allow her to be married against her will. If she must leave Winterfell to escape such a betrothal, wherever I am, Arya will always be welcome to live with me."

"And with me," Jon added without hesitation.

"I am thankful that my daughter has people who care about her welfare, and I promise that I will never force Arya to wed. I will try to find someone that Arya can be happy with, and will do my best to persuade her to agree, but I will not force her to marry against her will," Ned promised.

* * *

They finally arrived at Stoney Sept four days later. While the opportunity to refill their dwindling food supplies was welcome, the same could not be said for the news Ser Wilbert, one of the town's leaders, shared.

"Lannister's forces split after capturing Pinkmaiden. The old lion led the bulk of his forces through the Oak Pass up to Harrenhal, while his brother Kevan continued up the River Road to lay siege to Riverrun," the knight reported. While he wasn't exceptionally old, he was certainly past his prime, but there was still a noticeable, stalwart air in his bearing. "I've been gathering men, though it's slow going. We'll never have enough to break the siege, but perhaps we can raid their supply lines and foraging parties. If nothing else, it may turn their eyes south, leaving them vulnerable to your son's advance, my Lord."

Ned looked up sharply. "So Robb has called Winterfell's banners and is marching south?"

The aged knight nodded. "I was told that Riverrun had received a raven from Winterfell to that effect, though I cannot say for certain that it is the truth. Nor do I know when they will arrive, or how many men they will bring."

"How many men does Kevan Lannister have?" Tenten inquired.

To his credit, Ser Wilbert did not seem at all dismissive or disdainful of the foreign woman. "My scouts put it at about twelve thousands, my lady. They've been forced to divide into three camps, each of about equal size, to completely surround the keep."

Ned nodded. That made sense with what he remembered of House Tully's keep. "What of the Vale?" he inquired. "Has there been any news of their forces marshalling?"

"I've heard nothing," Wilbert replied with obvious reluctance.

Ned leaned back, thinking. _Tywin has done what Rhaegar tried to do all those years ago._ His control of the region near Harrenhal meant that the men of the North and the Vale would be unable to gather in a single army, allowing him to face the two forces separately, giving him a distinct advantage over the numerically inferior armies opposing him. And with so many of the Riverlords already defeated and scattered, it was unlikely that those of his goodfather's bannermen who remained would be able to gather enough soldiers to oppose the lions.

He glanced over, noting that Jon and Tenten seemed to be sharing significant looks, communicating without words. _What are they planning?_ "Thank you for your hospitality, Ser Wilbert, and for your information. Please do not let me keep you from your duties."

The knight recognized a polite dismissal when he heard one. "My pleasure, my lord. I shall take my leave. One of the servants will wait outside the door."

When it was just the three of them left in the room, Tenten was the first to speak. "Jon and I should continue to Riverrun. I can help break the siege."

Startled by this bold claim, Ned could only stare at her. He knew she was incredibly skilled, but to claim that she could defeat twelve thousand men… "How?" he asked.

"Chakra," she replied. "I can use chakra to disguise myself and infiltrate the camp. They will not be prepared for it, because no one else in Westeros can do what I can."

"It would be too dangerous to bring the children that close to an enemy army," Ned said.

"They will stay here. As should you," Jon countered. "Tenten and I will go alone."

"I can't ask you to do that."

Tenten rolled her eyes. "You are not asking. We are volunteering."

There was a part of Ned that wanted to refuse, but he knew that it was futile. Jon and Tenten had proven their ability when they freed him and the others from King's Landing, and managed to lead them to safety despite the Lannisters' best efforts. And if they truly could aid the besieged Rivermen, honor dictated that he permit them to do so. "Be careful, both of you," he said gravely.

"They will not even know we are there," Tenten replied with a smirk. "We can leave tomorrow morning, but first, I need you and Ser Wilbert to tell us everything you know about the Western lords."

Though he did not understand what she was planning, Ned did as requested. And if he happened to notice Tenten's smile becoming a bit bloodthirsty the longer he spoke, he did his best to ignore it.

* * *

If Ser Wilbert was surprised by the decision for the two of them to press onward, he did not show it. Instead, he arranged for their saddlebags to be refilled, and sent several of his best scouts to guide them. It took three days for them to reach Riverrun. They mostly followed small, seldom used trails instead of the major roads that the Lannisters would no doubt be watching, allowing them to arrive undetected.

As the sun was setting, the duo cautiously crawled to the top of a hill overlooking the Trident, accompanied by Huwin, the leader of the scouts.

"And there's Riverrun," their guide said, quite unnecessarily.

As they had been told, the Lannisters had divided into three camps, separated by the Trident and the Tumblestone. Even from their position nearly half a league away, it was clear that each camp contained thousands of men.

Looking at the enormity of the task before them, Jon couldn't help the swell of trepidation that formed like a stone in the pit of his stomach. But he had to trust that Tenten knew what she was doing.

"Thank you for your service, Huw," he said softly. You and your men can return to Stoney Sept now."

"Yes, my lord," the man replied. "And if I may, good luck, my lord," he added before vanishing down the slope.

Alone once more, Jon looked over at Tenten. "Are you sure you can do this?"

There was not a hint of doubt in her expression as she nodded. "Now you will see the true power of a shinobi when used very carefully."

* * *

Cersei stormed through the halls of the Red Keep, making no attempt to hide her anger. She was in no mood to hear yet another report from the scouts with their pitiful excuses as to why they were still unable to find one crippled man and his rescuers.

Just the thought of Stark being free made her want to scream, and not only because of the threat he posed to her and her children should he spread the tales of her cuckoldry. Just three days ago, the scouts had returned with several bodies that had been stripped and left out to rot. Though it was impossible to know for certain, as their heads were missing and animals had already begun to eat their flesh, Cersei knew in her heart that one of them was Jaime. Her twin. Her soulmate. And that northern barbarian had taken him away from her.

To her horror, Joffrey, not understanding the true nature of his relationship with Jaime, had gone so far as to blame his 'uncle' for failing to capture Stark. Rather than comprehending the true tragedy of Jaime's death, he had stated that it was good Jaime was dead, for that was a fitting punishment for failing his King. Not surprisingly, many of the nobles in the city had been shocked and somewhat discomfited by Joffrey's words. The fact that this had come just days after Barristan Selmy's dismissal and Jaime's elevation to Lord Commander of the Kingsguard only added to the whispers.

Still, Cersei didn't concern herself with what lesser men might think. All her thoughts and efforts were focused on one thing, and one thing only. Revenge. Stark would pay for his crimes against her, and against her soulmate. She would destroy all that he held dear, leaving him to suffer in total misery until she finally granted him the very slow and painful death that he so richly deserved. By the time she was done, the name Stark would be no more than a distant memory, a warning of the fate that would befall those who dared to defy her. Her own, personal Castamere.

Of course, it would not be an easy task. Cersei was not a fool, no matter what that deformed monster who pretended to be her brother liked to imply. The North had never been successfully invaded; she knew that. They had only bent the knee to avoid dragonfire, and sadly, that particular option was closed to Cersei.

She began to pace, thinking frantically. An attack by land would be stopped at Moat Cailin, as had happened so many times in the past. An attack by sea was out as well, given that Stannis controlled the royal fleet. Which left… what?

She stared at the map of Westeros she had acquired from that doddering fool Pycelle, racking her mind for some idea. And finally, it came to her.

_How did I not see it before?_ _It's so simple._ Father always said a wise leader takes advantage of his enemy's vulnerabilities. And that is exactly what she would do.

But how to exploit that weakness? The answer came to her almost immediately. _A sellsword company from Essos._ Lacking true armies, the barbarians of Essos had formed large hordes loyal only to gold – men of ill repute who would do anything, no matter how despicable, so long as they were paid.

A band of sellswords should have no problem killing a few hundred half-frozen men. She scoffed. Despite the oaths they supposedly swore, everyone knew that only a rare few of them truly wanted to be there. Most had gone simply to escape punishment for their crimes, and if given the choice, they would probably join the sellswords. And once the watchers were no longer on their wall… Cersei smiled, an almost erotic sense of pleasure welling up inside of her as she thought of the devastation the savages would wreak on the defenseless Northerners. Stark's beloved homeland would be turned to ashes, his people raped and tortured, killed and eaten. When it was all over, when people spoke of Westeros, they would call it the Six Kingdoms. And no one would dare to cross Cersei Lannister ever again.

Yes, she would take advantage of the greatest vulnerability the North had. A vulnerability seven hundred feet tall, and one hundred leagues long.

* * *

A/N – Many people were wondering about Cersei's reaction. Well, here it is. And, as you can see, while Tenten has been a big help to the Starks, this isn't going to be a perfect fix-it fic where everything goes their way.

I've received a few questions from people wondering if we will see anyone else from the Elemental Nations, and if we will ever find out the specifics of how Tenten got here. I don't normally like to get into spoilers like that, but in this case, I will answer. Tenten is the only one from Naruto that will be appearing in this story, and yes, we will find out how and why Tenten was brought to Westeros. I've already hinted at it just a little bit, but it was very subtle. There will be a much more obvious clue coming up in a few chapters, and then the characters will finally learn what happened somewhere around chapter 23. Just fyi, my current outline puts this story at 27 chapters. So much for it not being a particularly long story :)


	13. Chapter 13: Sabotage

Chapter 13: Sabotage

_I do have to give them credit, their camps are well-organized,_ Jon thought. It was true. With tents in organized rows, latrines dug some distance away from both the tents and the rivers – but still within the area patrolled by guards – and the horses racked up to hitching rails set up in neat lines, the Lannister camp was a model of order and discipline. Men patrolled the outskirts of the camp regularly, palisades of sharpened stakes had been firmly placed to disrupt an enemy charge, and the brush and trees had been cleared back for at least a hundred paces to make it almost impossible for anyone to sneak in.

Of course, these defenses were designed with a regular human in mind, and, as such, provided little obstacle for Tenten. One quick _shunshin_ brought her right behind a pair of guards on their rounds, and she slit their throats before either had a chance to react.

Jon, having only recently begun learning to channel chakra, was nowhere near ready to learn _shunshin_, so he had to sneak into the camp the regular way. With the guards eliminated, however, it wasn't difficult for him to get close while staying low enough to the ground to avoid detection from the next pair of sentries, who were more than a hundred paces away. By the time he had reached Tenten, she had already sealed the bodies away in storage scrolls, a strange action that caused Jon to frown in confusion, though he knew it was pointless at that time to ask why she had done so.

Once in the camp proper, the duo ducked into a nearby tent, careful not to make a sound. Given that it was late into the night, it was no surprise that the men were all fast asleep, and some quick knife-work ensured that they would never awake.

They'd been at this for over a week, and by now, Jon had become accustomed to killing men in their sleep. Just a few months ago he would have been horrified by such actions, but after so many such kills, he hardly felt the slightest twinge of remorse as he pulled the blade across the throat of the sleeping men.

Tenten's plan had called for a steady escalation in both the frequency and severity of the attacks so that the Western lords did not immediately realize that their enemies were to blame. The first attacks had not involved killing at all, in fact. Instead, on the first night, any Lannister soldiers they found alone or in small groups were knocked unconscious and their valuables stolen. The next night, there had been even more attacks, and a few of their victims had been killed, with even more deaths the night after that.

It was strange to see the effect that their actions had on the camps. As word of the attacks spread, most men traveled in groups and eyed their fellows warily. Some even followed his and Tenten's example, judging by the rumors of attacks that he knew they weren't responsible for. His lover's idea of tearing the Lannister army apart from the inside, making them so suspicious of their fellow soldiers that they turned on each other had seemed like a fantasy at first, but now he could see that it was working.

Jon turned his attention back to the task at hand. With the Lannister men dead, they set to work gathering any valuables they could find, which Tenten carefully sealed away, then they stumbled out of the tent, Jon pulling Tenten close against him, looking to all the world like a soldier and his chosen whore as they walked to a different part of the camp, where they once more slipped into a tent and repeated the process.

* * *

They'd just exited the third tent when they heard shouting.

"I think they have discovered our handiwork," Tenten whispered.

"Fight our way out?" Jon suggested quietly as they slipped back into the tent they had just left.

"Let's try clones instead," Tenten decided, flipping through the necessary hand signs. With a small puff of chakra smoke, she transformed into a soldier wearing simple armor and the livery of House Crakehall, then another burst of chakra heralded the creation of four clones, each a perfect duplicate of her disguised form. Though the clones were just an illusion, it should be enough to draw the attention of any pursuers.

The decoys set out at once, sprinting for the palisades bordering the camps, careful to avoid any physical obstacles that would indicate they were completely incorporeal. Not for the first time, Tenten wished that she had learned something besides the basic Academy _bunshin_, but there was nothing she could do about that now.

Making no attempt to be stealthy, the clones were spotted almost immediately, judging by the angry cries of, "There they are!" and "After them!". Jon and Tenten (now wearing the colors of house Greenfield) waited a few more moments, then dashed out of the tent and joined in the pursuit, racing south down the road, away from the camp. They dropped behind eventually, pretending to be tired, and slowly made their way to the river.

The Red Fork was wide, but, at least at this point, it was not very deep, so Jon had no difficulty fording it. Tenten, of course, just walked on top of the water, a feat that Jon was anxious to be able to duplicate, though she had warned him that it would still take much more practice before he was ready.

As they turned north and cautiously approached the camp on this side of the river, they could still hear angry voices to the east.

"It's very unfair that Sir Forley's camp is the only one that has been disturbed tonight," Tenten said thoughtfully.

Jon rolled his eyes at the innocent, almost playful tone his lover used. "Somehow, I doubt that Brax would agree that he should also be attacked because of fairness."

"True," Tenten replied, nodding solemnly, before brightening. "But, at least Brax will know who is responsible for his men being killed."

Jon looked over at her quizzically, then remembered. "That's why you took the bodies of those sentries."

"Precisely," Tenten replied with a vicious grin. "After all, if we're going to get the Westermen to fight each other, they need proof that the other Lords' soldiers are to blame for the attacks."

Jon couldn't help but match his lover's smile as she explained her plan.

* * *

Sneaking into the camp west of the Red Fork was just as easy as sneaking into the camp on the east bank. As they entered the first tent, one of the men sat up, startled, but Tenten's kunai killed him before he had a chance to make a sound. The other Lannister soldiers quickly followed their fellow in death, though this time, Jon and Tenten killed them in a variety of ways.

Tenten unsealed the bodies of the two sentries she had killed in Prester's camp, then frowned as she looked at them thoughtfully. "I should not have slit both of their throats," she commented. "It is suspicious to have both attackers killed the same way."

"What about just leaving one body?" Jon suggested as he looked at the dead armsmen in the garb of what he thought was House Kayce.

"That is a good idea," Tenten agreed, resealing one of the bodies. She grabbed a sword from where it was laying at the side of the tent and stabbed the remaining body through the stomach. "Put one of the men over here, so it looks like he killed his attacker before dying," she instructed, and Jon quickly complied.

Once the scene had been set, they gathered near the door, and Tenten nodded to Jon.

"To arms!" he shouted at the top of his lungs. "Murd-" he cut off abruptly, then the duo dashed out of the tent and rushed toward the boundary of the camp, cutting down anyone who got in their way.

Not surprisingly, none of the Lannister soldiers were able to react in time, so Jon and Tenten reached the forest without any sign of pursuit. They took their time carefully sneaking across the Tumblestone and back to their camp in the thick Whispering Wood, finally arriving just as the sun was beginning to rise.

After double-checking to ensure they had not been followed, the pair climbed down into the small tunnel leading to the hollow they had cleared out amidst the roots underneath a massive tree. It was a tight fit, but neither had any complaints.

* * *

"How many men do you figure we've killed already?" Jon wondered as he tried to focus his attention on the trees in front of him. Given that the woman he loved with all his heart (and other body parts as well) was bathing in the river behind him, this was not an easy task, but he had no desire to be caught unawares by a Lannister patrol. Such patrols were uncommon this far up the Tumblestone, but that was no reason to be complacent. He reached down to the wool blanket where they had set their food, grabbing a large piece of salted beef taken from the Lannister army's provisions.

There was some soft splashing in the river, then a dripping sound as Tenten climbed onto the nearby rocks. "I haven't kept track. At least a hundred," she replied from beside him. "Perhaps even more than two hundred." It was a large number, but still, just a drop in the bucket compared to the total size of the Lannister army surrounding Riverrun.

Jon glanced over, then swallowed deeply, unable to do anything but admire the view as the beautiful kunoichi bent over to pick up her clothes. Judging by the playful smile on her face when she straightened up, Tenten was fully aware of just how helpless he had been to resist.

"You want to bathe?" she asked.

Jon shook his head. "Not today." He continued to watch, entranced as she used a large piece of cloth to dry her body. "So, more attacks on the tents tonight?" he finally asked.

Tenten frowned thoughtfully. "I think it is time to take it to the next level." Jon cocked an eyebrow curiously, and she continued. "We have mostly been targeting the common soldiers. Tonight, we should attack some of the nobles. That way, we can start to turn them against each other. Once the nobles are at each other's throats, it will just take one small push and their entire army will be destroyed through infighting."

"And how will we do that?" Jon inquired.

Instead of answering, Tenten laid down on the blanket, turning over on her side with her head propped up on her hand. "We can worry about that later," she said as she ran a hand up and down her body seductively. "For now, I think there is something else you should focus on."

Jon didn't need to be told twice.

* * *

Kevan stepped into his tent and collapsed onto the chair in front of the table holding the maps, taking advantage of the privacy to finally allow the weariness he felt to show on his face. It truly was amazing just how quickly everything could fall apart. When he had been given command of the force that would besiege Riverrun, he had sworn that he would not fail in his duty. And, at the start, the very idea of failure had seemed unthinkable.

A force of Rivermen had set up a defensive position along the road in an attempt to delay them, probably to allow more supplies to be brought into the castle. Kevan had advanced cautiously, splitting his force into three columns, taking command of the middle himself, while the left was given to Lord Andros Brax and the right to Ser Forley Prester. The columns pushed forward with enough distance between them that it was nigh impossible for the Rivermen to flank the attacking army, but also close enough that the separated forces could easily support each other should the defenders launch a concerted attack against any one division.

And his plan had worked well. Edmure Tully and his lords had been forced to retreat to Riverrun, losing at least five times as many men as the Westermen. An auspicious start, but Kevan's luck had not lasted much longer. While the initial stages of the siege had gone about as well as could be expected, the past two weeks had been filled with one problem after another, which stacked up to become a persistent nuisance that was getting worse with each passing day.

Any time thousands of soldiers were stuck in close quarters, there would always be problems. That was a simple reality of war. Laying siege in enemy territory could often be as unpleasant for the besiegers as the besieged, and this time was no different, especially given that Tully's forces had stalled his advance long enough for the provisions from nearby farms to be brought into the keep. Of course, Kevan's forces had brought supplies of their own, but even in the beginning, it had not been uncommon for the men to go to bed hungry some nights.

Kevan sighed. That was the way of war. There was never enough food, or enough drink, or enough bedding, or enough whores, or enough of a million other things that kept the fighters in good spirits. And as morale slowly dropped and the men grew more and more weary of the war, sooner or later some were bound to act. He just didn't expect it to be this soon.

It had started with an increase in theft in the camps, with many of the men-at-arms, and even some of the nobility, losing coin and prized possessions. Eventually, the thieves grew even bolder, attacking their fellow soldiers, first beating them savagely, and more recently, killing them outright, sometimes even sneaking into tents and murdering men in their sleep. And as word of the attacks spread with no suspects being captured, more and more men were willing to take the risk of committing similar crimes.

It wasn't just coin being stolen, of course. Food was also a target of these criminals. The lords in each of the camps had tried to forestall this by gathering the supplies into one central location, guarded by their most trusted men. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough, with the guards frequently being attacked and killed, while the precious foodstuffs disappeared, never to be seen again.

The sheer speed with which the supplies vanished was proof of a massive organization operating within the camps. Doubtless hundreds of men must have cooperated to seize and hide such a vast quantity of food, but there was no evidence of who was behind it, and random searches had turned up nothing. Compounded with attacks on the supply trains coming up out of the Golden Tooth, the vanishing food left the Lannister army in a precarious position.

Though Kevan had done his best to convince the men under his command that the Riverlords were to blame, having sent out saboteurs to strike at their enemies, he knew they didn't believe him. Of course they didn't; after all, he didn't truly believe it, either.

If it had just been the smallfolk conscripts fighting each other, they likely could have managed without too many problems. Unfortunately, four days ago, the thieves had tried to steal from the nobles in Lord Brax's camp, setting a large, nearby pile of firewood ablaze and freeing the horses, which immediately began to stampede away from the inferno, to create a distraction that allowed them to slip into the tent of the Crakehall heir.

They were discovered quickly and three were killed, but the remaining two managed to fight their way free, killing not only Ser Tybolt Crakehall, but also Ser Tytos Brax and Lord Gawen Westerling, along with half a dozen knights from more minor houses. Examination of the three bodies left behind revealed that the thieves had dressed in the colors of House Crakehall in order to get close to the tents without drawing attention to themselves, but under the no doubt stolen clothes, they wore the colors of House Prester.

Like nobles everywhere, the Western lords were a fractious lot, with old insults and bitter arguments that went back decades. They constantly jockeyed for position, which is why Kevan had taken great care when splitting the army to ensure that any feuding nobles were separated in the hopes of keeping the peace. _Well that hope is gone_, the Lannister knight thought bitterly_._

It wasn't about money anymore, that much was clear. Lord Andros Brax, Ser Raynald Westerling and several others had sworn to have their revenge. And any hope that their words were mere wind died the very next night, when several nobles in Ser Forley's camp were murdered, including Ser Forley's nephew. Brax and his men claimed to be innocent, but not everyone believed them.

Now, the lords were at a state of almost open warfare, while their men were careful to travel in bands, wary of supposedly allied soldiers with a grudge who would take their anger out on any target of opportunity. Every morning brought news of more attacks, and it was almost impossible to determine who was the guilty party in any situation, as there were rarely any witnesses and no suspects had ever been captured alive at the scene of the crime. The sparse evidence found had almost certainly been planted, clearly having been chosen specifically to implicate certain lords. Unfortunately, items such as a torn piece of cloth with a house's sigil easily discernible or an ornate and very distinctive dagger that had belonged to a lord who claimed that it had been stolen previously were enough to rile up the more excitable members of each camp. Thus far, the threat of Lannister retaliation against anyone who blatantly acted against their fellows had managed to prevent outright combat between the divided army. Kevan had no idea how long that would be the case, however.

Not for the first time, Kevan found himself cursing Tywin's children for whatever they had done to put them all in this position. He knew he was not alone in suspecting that the reports coming from the Queen and her brother were not entirely accurate. The idea that Stark would have acted so brazenly and in such a foolish manner was ludicrous. But whatever the truth of the matter, House Lannister was now at war with the former Kings of Winter, a war that had already cost them dearly.

Kevan's eyes moistened as he remembered the letter Cersei had sent, informing them of how the treacherous Starks had brutally murdered Jaime. Of course, the fact that Kevan's eldest son Lancel had also been killed warranted nothing more than the slightest mention, much to the aged knight's displeasure. He had often heard men comment on how painful it was to lose a child. He just never imagined it could hurt this much.

Kevan glanced over at the small divider behind which his son and squire, Willem, had placed his cot, and was, by now, no doubt sleeping. Willem's twin, Martyn, was with the force Stafford was gathering at Oxcross, while Kevan's youngest child – and only daughter – remained with her mother at Casterly Rock. There were no guarantees in war, but Kevan was determined to do all he could to keep his remaining children alive and well.

Once more, Kevan read the report his cousin had sent about the new muster of troops. According to Stafford, more than a thousand levies had been gathered already, with more coming every day. Of course, training those men took time, and it was unlikely that the full force of ten thousand that Tywin had ordered would be ready to march any time soon, but the knowledge that more forces were coming was a relief. According to the latest reports from Tywin's scouts and spies, the Stark host had passed Moat Cailin and would likely be engaging the main Lannister force within a week or two.

He had no doubt that his brother would, as always, prevail, but Kevan also knew that the Riverlords were not entirely beaten. The Mallister and Frey forces were completely untouched, and there were still thousands of soldiers in Riverrun that should not be forgotten, not to mention the possibility of an attack from the Vale. If the Lannister army took too many losses, they could find themselves surrounded by an enemy that would not be inclined to show any mercy. But Tywin was two hundred leagues or more away, and there was nothing that Kevan could do to help him.

With a sigh, he stood from the table. "Willem, come help me with my armor," he called. There was no answer. Kevan walked over to the divider. "You are my son, but you are also my squire, and there are certain duties that you must fulfill," he chastised gently as he reached forward to shake his son awake.

His son's head rolled over, and to Kevan's shock and horror, he could see Will's eyes already open – open but unseeing. His blood turned to ice in his veins. "Willem, Willem!" he cried, ripping the covers off his son. The blankets were soaked with blood.

"No," the old man sobbed hoarsely as the truth of the matter became apparent. With trembling hands, he reached out and pulled the black dagger from his son's stomach, noting the distinctive symbol of the hooded man on the handle. The sigil of House Banefort.

"It can't be," he whispered. "No, it's a trick." He was so horrified that he didn't even realize he was still speaking aloud.

He stumbled back, falling to the ground, but before he could call for the guards, a soft, female voice spoke into his ear. "Pity, I thought you would go for it."

There was a burning pain across his throat. Kevan tried to call for help, but it came out as nothing more than a gurgling wheeze.

* * *

Tenten took a moment to observe her handiwork, deliberately concentrating on the Lannister knight and not his son. The boy had been a few years younger than her, about the age of a freshly graduated genin. Tenten didn't like having to kill people who were barely more than children. _But if they're on a battlefield, they're fair game_, she thought grimly.

The kunoichi briefly considered staging the bodies to make it look like a robbery gone wrong, but dismissed the notion after a moment's thought. The idea of their commander being deliberately assassinated would probably disturb the remaining nobles more than a botched attempt at thievery.

Walking over to Lannister's bed, she dragged the bodies of the guards who had been standing watch at the entrance to the tent, and whom she had killed then replaced with clones without anyone noticing, out from where she had hidden them, placing the corpses next to the lord they had been sworn to protect. With any luck, the surviving nobility would assume that someone was trying to kill off the competition, making them even more suspicious of each other.

Tenten's eyes fell on the desk. _It would be a real shame to leave all that intelligence behind._ Of course, if the letters and reports were found to be missing, that would raise some eyebrows. _Which just means that I need to make sure nobody realizes those papers have been taken._

Two minutes later, Tenten walked calmly out of the tent, using a _henge_ to look like a Lannister soldier, carefully shutting the flap behind her so that no one would see the fire she had started until it was too late. Most of the attacks up to this point had been focused on the two camps to the south, so the men here were not as attentive as they should have been. Nodding to the clones pretending to be the men-at-arms standing watch at the tent entrance, she slipped out of the camp and into the darkness.

* * *

The noise in the tent was almost deafening as men shouted to be heard over their fellows. Bowls of stew and warm, buttered bread had been set on the table in front of each of them, but no one paid any mind to the delicious food as they quarreled.

"Enough!" Quenten Banefort finally roared.

The noise gradually subsided, but not without some angry glares from the assembled lords and knights.

"For now, we will focus on maintaining the siege. Each camp shall handle its own affairs, with all provisions split equally between them. A trusted courier has already been sent to Lord Tywin. He will decide which of us should be given command, or if one of the lords from his army should be sent over instead."

If Quenten had hoped this pronouncement would end the argument, he was sadly mistaken. "And I'm sure your message made no mention of the attacks _his_ people have committed," Andros Brax roared, gesturing furiously toward where Ser Forley Prester stood holding back his younger brother Dalton, who looked ready to charge the large lord.

"Why should we listen to you, Banefort?" the younger Prester shouted.

"I do not claim to have any authority over you," Quenten replied, forcing himself to remain calm. It was true. Sadly, no one had imagined that Kevan Lannister would be killed, so there had been no clear chain of command, and with so many nobles fighting given the losses they had suffered these past few weeks, it was impossible for them to come to any agreement for who should be chosen to replace Ser Kevan.

"And yet you order us to stay huddled in our camps while our enemies murder us one by one!" Ser Raynald yelled.

"What do you think Lord Tywin will do to anyone who attacks his fellow Westermen?" Satisfaction filled Quenten as everyone finally fell silent. They knew well what fate would await them. _The Rains of Castamere_ was an excellent reminder of how Tywin Lannister repaid disloyalty. "For now, let each camp have its own commander. We will continue the siege, and Lord Tywin will instruct us on how to proceed."

Though there was still some grumbling, no one objected to the plan.

Quenten shared an exasperated look with Lord Regenard Estren, the only other major lord in the camp north of the Red Fork. To think that their primary concern at the start of the siege was the possibility of an attack from the Mallisters. Now, they were on a knife's edge, just a small step away from outright warfare between the camps.

He just hoped that Lord Tywin was able to send a reply quickly, and that they were able to maintain some semblance of discipline until it arrived.

No one noticed when one of the maidservants who had been serving them exited the tent and vanished into the bustling camp.

* * *

"I had a thought," Jon commented as he rubbed his lover's back while cuddling together after a very pleasurable bout of lovemaking. "We've been focused on getting the Westermen to fight each other, but we haven't paid any attention to the Tyroshi freeriders."

Tenten lifted her head from his chest, looking up at him curiously.

"We have all that gold you stole from Littlefinger," Jon continued. "Why not use it? Give one of the Tyroshi five hundred dragons and a note claiming to be from Brax saying that if he kills Forley Prester, he'll be paid an additional five thousand dragons. If he doesn't believe the note and instead warns Prester, people will believe that Brax was behind it. If he does believe the note and attacks Prester, he does our work for us, whether he succeeds or not."

"It is a good idea," Tenten agreed before fixing him with a suspicious look, though the twitching at the corners of her lips made it clear she was struggling not to smile. "But why are you thinking about that at a time like this?"

Jon pressed a kiss to her lips, his tongue rubbing against hers as they opened their mouths and the kiss grew more intimate. "Just a passing thought," he said when they finally broke apart. "I assure you, I was concentrating entirely on you before."

"Really?" Tenten's eyes sparkled.

Jon rolled them over, trapping Tenten's arms against the ground over her head as he began to kiss her neck. "Shall I prove it to you?"

* * *

_He's actually going for it_, Tenten thought with some surprise as she watched one of the more savage-looking freeriders sneak into the camp with surprising skill. Tenten followed closely enough to keep him in sight while still maintaining sufficient distance to go unnoticed.

The heavy rain had extinguished the campfires, and the thick clouds above them blocked out what little light the moon provided, ensuring a night as dark as any. The Tyroshi man had minimal difficulty invading the camp of his supposed allies, though Tenten noticed that he had been forced to kill a few guards here and there as he cautiously approached the large tent at the center of the camp.

_Hmm, would it be better for him to succeed, or to be caught in the act? _Tenten wondered. She thought back to the contentious meeting the lords had held after Kevan Lannister's death. _Forley Prester seemed like a stabilizing influence. But his younger brother…_

Tenten watched with some satisfaction as the sellsword ignored the entrance to the tent, instead creeping quietly behind the tent and cut a small slit in the heavy fabric. As the man entered, Tenten snuck up closer. Soon, the freerider emerged once more, and the kunoichi acted.

Letting out an ear-splitting shriek of horror, she threw a sword at the man's legs. The wound wouldn't kill him, but it was more than adequate to slow him down. "Murder!" she screamed as loudly as she could.

Guards rushed in from all sides, while Tenten vanished into the darkness.

* * *

"That was an excellent idea, Jon," Tenten remarked as they observed (from a distance, of course) the devastation that had, just a few hours before, been the Tyroshi freeriders' camp. Dalton Prester had not concerned himself with determining whether the other freeriders had been involved or not. Instead, he had gathered his men and immediately attacked the foreign sellswords, killing most. Naturally, the Tyroshi were not willing to simply lay down and die, exacting a heavy toll as they fought back ferociously before finally being overwhelmed by the more numerous Westermen. In the end, several hundred men had lost their lives as neither side had made much of an effort to take prisoners.

"Just a pity the freerider destroyed the note we left," Jon replied.

Tenten shrugged. "I'm sure they'll search the tents, and they'll find the gold. Prester will assume it came from one of the other lords, and Brax is the most likely suspect."

* * *

"It was Brax. I know it!" Dalton Prester didn't care who heard the accusation. He was certain that he was correct. His brother had been murdered two days ago, and there could be no doubt who had hired the foreign assassin.

"Perhaps so, but there's no proof," Ser Garth Greenfield cautioned.

"There's plenty of proof," Dalton snarled. "But I'm the only one who has the balls to say it!"

Behind them, a man cleared his throat, and both knights turned to see a man-at-arms in the colors of House Estren standing awkwardly, accompanied by a small band of men wearing the livery of House Kenning. "What is it?" Dalton demanded.

"My pardon, my lords, but I have been sent to inform you that Lord Quenten Banefort has been found murdered. My Lord Regenard Estren has assumed command of the northern camp."

Despite the fury he felt at this news, Dalton managed to hold his tongue until the man had been escorted out.

"Brax strikes again! One by one, he's eliminating all rivals so that he alone can claim victory here."

"We don't know that," Garth protested.

"Get out," Dalton ordered hotly.

The Greenfield knight obeyed without another word.

"Double the sentries guarding the camp, and triple the guard on my tent," the angry commander shouted. "Brax will come for me sooner or later. I've no intention of letting him succeed." He glared at the tent door where his former friend had just exited. "And then I'll have proof," he spat.

* * *

It was two nights later that Brax's man finally struck. Fortunately, the heavier guard stymied the fiend, with one of the soldiers managing to scream out a warning before being cut down.

The large man burst into the tent, but Dalton was ready. Seeing his quarry already prepared for the attack, the would-be assassin, whom Dalton recognized as the captain of Brax's personal guard, fled, with Dalton and his men in hot pursuit.

The assassin fled toward the river, near where the camp followers were gathered, and Dalton lost sight of him as he plunged into one of the many tents closely packed along the muddy bank. The Prester armsmen followed behind, but a large cut in the back of the tent revealed how the man had escaped.

"Spread out, find him," Dalton commanded, but just then, a loud scream filled the air.

Dalton rushed toward the feminine cry, furiously slashing his way out of the tent to discover one of the washerwomen lying on the ground, pointing in horror at the entrance to another tent just a few paces away.

"He… he… I…" The woman was incoherent, but when Dalton and his men entered, it was apparent what had happened. Brax's guard lay on the ground, a heavy tent stake through his throat. Dalton left the tent, hoping to question the woman more, but she had already vanished.

It was not surprising. Smallfolk tended to be very skittish around their betters, with good reason. Still, the body was all the proof Dalton needed.

"Summon Ser Garth and rouse the camp. We will not let this stand." Despite the burning rage he felt, his voice was ice.

* * *

Tenten and Jon watched in satisfaction as soldiers from the southeast camp quietly forded the broad river and cautiously approached the southwest camp. Killing one of Brax's top men and smuggling the body away unnoticed had been difficult, but worth it. Due to their losses against the Tyroshi, Prester's forces were outnumbered by Brax's, so the vengeful knight had turned to stealth to regain the advantage. Tenten had finished helping Jon into his new armor, and the pair watched patiently from a small ridge just west of Brax's camp. In the dim light they could just make out Prester's forces assembling quietly to the south. Soon, nearly two thousand men were gathered just a stone's throw from the camp, waiting in the darkness for some sign to be given.

What that sign was, neither Tenten nor Jon could see, but like a mighty wave, the men began to charge. The sentries patrolling the borders of Brax's camp cried out in alarm as the attacks swarmed around and, in some cases, over the palisades. Horribly outnumbered, the guards were killed quickly; still, their warning had been enough. Men began to pour out of tents, half dressed and barely awake, but armed nevertheless.

Months of frustration at being stuck laying a siege in harsh conditions of storm and deprivation had been amplified by weeks of fury as their lords told them over and over that it was the men in the other camps that were responsible for the many thefts and attacks they had suffered. And now that they finally had a target for their anger, the enraged men charged savagely at each other, both sides refusing to give any quarter.

Of course, since Prester's forces had donned their armor before leaving their camp, there was no doubt which side would win the battle.

"I think we should help even the odds," Tenten suggested, gesturing to the north camp, where the flickering fires revealed soldiers hurriedly rallying to answer their lords' commands.

* * *

Dalton sneered as yet another one of the traitors fell to his blade. "Keep pushing, men" he called, though it was unlikely that anyone heard him over the din of combat. He looked over at Garth, a broad smile on his face, though he was disappointed to see that his friend was not as enthusiastic as he was.

A cry of alarm sounded from the rear of the army, and he turned to see that his men were being attacked from behind. Summoning his guard, Dalton rushed back to see what had happened, and found more than a score of his men had already been killed.

"Vengeance for Lord Banefort," a high voice called out, and a knife flew out of the darkness, hitting Garth in the face. His friend fell to the ground without a word, dead.

_Banefort? They think I killed Banefort?_ "It was Brax!" he shouted, but there was no answer.

* * *

Regenard Estren cursed as the crude raft pulled up on the bank and he and his guard were finally able to fully see the chaos that had gripped the southern camps. Years past his prime and overweight, he was not a fighter, and he knew it, which is why he had volunteered to join Ser Kevan in the siege. Now, for the first time in his life, he finally understood what battle truly was. Men from the other rafts gathered around him, and soon they had a band more than a hundred strong, marching resolutely toward the turmoil ahead of them, though he could tell many of them were as frightened as he. "Cease this madness," he ordered at the top of his lungs as they drew near, but no one heeded his command. Instead, the armored men, led by those in the colors of House Prester, pressed forward, mercilessly cutting down the less prepared defenders.

"Separate the armies," he instructed his men, leading his guard forward. If they could stop the fighting long enough for sense to prevail, perhaps they could restore some semblance of order. Unfortunately, it was not to be.

"Vengeance for Lord Banefort!" a heavily armored knight from his side shouted, then plunged forward, cutting down the Prester men-at-arms with astonishing skill.

_Vengeance for Lord Banefort? What? _Regenard had no time to think on this. Seeing their fellow men-at-arms attacked, Prester's force retaliated, and the Lord of Wyndhall found himself fighting for his life against his own allies.

* * *

Surrounded on all sides, Jon had never been more grateful for the training Tenten had given him. The full plate armor he had taken from a knight he had had killed several days ago was a great boon as well. He finally managed to fight his way free, escaping back to the relative safety of Estren's men, who covered their supposed ally's retreat.

He found himself seized by the arm and pulled around to discover a panicked-looking Lord Estren staring at him.

"What's happening? Where are you going?" the corpulent Western lord shouted.

With no time to think or plan, Jon just went with his gut. "My Lord, Ser Dalton's gone mad," he lied, yelling to be heard over the clamor of the fighting just a few paces away. "We must call for reinforcements before he kills us all!"

Fortunately, this seemed to do the trick. "Yes, yes, we… we must call for reinforcements," the fat man agreed frantically, looking back at where the men who had accompanied him were being slaughtered. "Come with me," he commanded as he began to race toward the river with his personal guard.

As he escorted the panicking lord back to the rafts, Jon couldn't help the smirk on his face, though because of his helm, he knew that none of the men accompanying him could see it. _Tenten was right. Kill the experienced leaders, and the rest will run around like chickens with their heads cut off._

Estren clambered awkwardly onto the rough logs. "You go, my lord," Jon yelled as the other men joined their lord. "Bring reinforcements! I shall guard this shore." He pushed the raft into the water, almost laughing at the sight of the overweight noble and his men struggling to propel the unwieldy raft with only one pole between them. Men were leaning over the edge, trying to use their arms to push the raft forward, while their lord could be heard shouting orders to go faster.

Jon glanced back at the melee in the camp. Prester's forces clearly had the upper hand, but they were tiring quickly, and men from the northern camp were already assembling on the shores, waiting to cross over and join the fight.

_I think that should do it_, he thought with no small degree of satisfaction. A few men-at-arms from houses under Ser Dalton's command rushed down to attack him, but he dispatched them easily, and soon, his 'allies' had joined him.

"Take no prisoners, men," he yelled. "It's us or them." To his amusement, no one stopped to ask who he was or why they should follow him. Evidently, the expensive armor was enough to convince the newly arrived soldiers that he was someone whose orders should be heeded.

With a wild cry, the men raced up to the bank and began to cut down their fellow Westermen.

* * *

The battle in Brax's camp had turned into complete anarchy, to Tenten's great satisfaction. She hoped that Jon was safe, but there was no way to know for sure. All she could do was concentrate on the task at hand as she rushed toward Prester's camp, using a _henge_ to appear as a non-descript soldier. Nearly a thousand men had been left to guard the camp and maintain the siege so that the Rivermen could not leave their castle. And that just wouldn't do at all.

"Ser Dalton calls for aid," she shouted as she entered the camp, doing her best to hide her accent and pitch her voice at a lower octave so they did not realize she was a woman. "He's ordered all our men to join in the attack. Follow me!" Fortunately, no one protested. All the knights and nobles under Prester's command had joined in the initial attack on Brax's forces, leaving the poorly trained smallfolk levies behind. Used to following orders or being punished harshly, the frightened soldiers made their way down to the rafts to float across the slow-moving river and join in the carnage.

They soon reached the west bank. "Leave none alive!" she ordered, and a band of about two hundred fighters charged forward, including a skinny boy about Sansa's age wearing the purple, white and gold of House Payne. Unfortunately, they were struck almost immediately by a surge of troops with white seashells on their livery, who had flanked the embattled forces of House Prester. Almost the entire charge was cut down before another wave of troops attacked and killed the fighters of House Westerling. Dozens of men tried to stay behind with the rafts, but Tenten drove them forward. "Attack, you cowards, or Ser Dalton will have your heads!"

That did the trick.

* * *

With the additional men from the camp, Ser Dalton's army once more had the advantage, as the men from the northern camp could only cross in small groups, due to the shortage of rafts and the difficulty of crossing the swift Tumblestone.

It was just as Jon was considering how he could slip away that a loud horn sounded, and exuberant shouts heralded the attack of a new foe, one that the Westermen had completely forgotten.

The massive drawbridge of Riverrun fell to the ground with a heavy thud, and the bannermen of House Tully charged out onto the field, the front line of heavy horse quickly covering the distance to the camp and smashing into the exhausted survivors of the carnage. Seeing this sudden assault, the Westermen still on the rafts quickly reversed their direction, frantically returning to the safety of the north bank once more, while the Lannister soldiers already in the southwest camp fled in every direction, hoping to escape the wrath of the Rivermen.

Jon raced west, following the Tumblestone upriver, and was amused to see a small band of fleeing men-at-arms follow his example. Unfortunately, this drew the attention of the Rivermen, who pursued them.

"We can't outrun the horses, we have to fight," Jon called, as he turned and drew his sword. As he had expected, the Lannister soldiers followed his example, turning to face the charging enemy. Unfortunately for them, that left their backs exposed.

Jon had just finished killing the last man when the Rivermen came to a halt, weapons held threateningly before them. A man in heavy armor with a white tree on his shield urged his horse a few steps forward. "Why did you betray your fellow soldiers?"

Jon threw his sword to the ground and removed his helm, then held his hands in the air in surrender. "My name is Jon Snow, son of Lord Eddard Stark. My companion and I have been working to destabilize the Lannister force and turn them against each other."

The man studied him for a minute. "I am Lord Tytos Blackwood. You will come with me," he finally declared.

* * *

_Where is he?_

Tenten was most certainly _not_ panicking. No, she was in complete control, even though her lover and soon-to-be husband had yet to return to their rendezvous point, which, given that it was only a little more than a league from Brax's camp, should have only taken at most an hour. Since the fighting had ended three hours ago and it was nearly dawn, it was certainly understandable that she might be slightly concerned. But she wasn't panicking.

She could hear horses coming, and ducked behind a tree, peering cautiously out into the clearing as a dozen riders emerged from the thick forest, letting out a sigh of relief as she spotted their leader.

"Tenten?" Jon shouted, dismounting and looking around frantically.

"Jon," she called, not caring that they were being watched as she rushed into his arms and kissed him passionately.

* * *

Ser Edmure Tully never would have imagined that he would be so graciously welcoming his goodbrother's bastard into his home, but after the miraculous deliverance that the Snow lad had reportedly been a part of, he was not going to complain at all about the circumstances of the boy's birth. Edmure would likely have welcomed the Stranger himself into Riverrun as a guest of honor in thanks for such a great deed.

"Jon Snow and… Tenten, is that correct?" he inquired as a guard led the two into the solar.

"Yes, my lord," the boy replied humbly.

His companion, however, was more verbose. "My lord, may I ask, has word been sent to Jon's uncle at Stoney Sept?" the young woman asked.

Edmure blinked in confusion. "Jon's uncle?" he echoed, noting the expression of surprise and alarm on the boy's face.

The girl seemed confused, then looked over at Snow, inhaling sharply with panic evident in her eyes. "I mean, Jon's father," she said quickly, her words thoroughly unconvincing. "I sometimes get… confused. But Lord Stark is Jon's father, not his uncle." She swallowed deeply. "Yes, we should send word to Jon's _father_ Lord Stark. Because Lord Stark is his father. Not… his uncle." She trailed off, smiling sheepishly while not quite making eye contact with him.

Edmure was no fool, not that it would take an exceptional intellect to realize that the girl was lying. _Eddard is truly the boy's uncle? But then, why the ruse?_

He had intended to ask how they had managed to turn the Lannister soldiers against each other, but this new revelation drove those thoughts from his mind.

"Yes, we should let Jon's… father… know as soon as we can." Edmure noted with some amusement the exasperated look that young Jon gave his companion, who looked down at the ground, ashamed at her mistake.

"May we escort the messengers, Ser Edmure? My _father_," he said dryly, glancing over at the still embarrassed girl, who blushed, "bade us return with all haste as soon as we were able."

"Of course," Edmure replied quickly. "My guard will show you to the hall, where the servants can provide you with some food. In the meantime, I shall have fresh horses prepared for you."

Edmure had to suppress a smile as the two exited the solar. Whatever her other skills, deception was obviously not one of the girl's strong points.

* * *

More than three weeks had passed since Jon and Tenten had left, and each day, Eddard found his anxiety growing ever stronger.

_I shouldn't have let them go. What good could two people do against thousands? They could have stayed and assisted Ser Wilbert and his sons in their attacks on the Lannister supply wagons. At least then, they would have been safe._

He did his best to hide his feelings from Bran and Arya, who were convinced that somehow, their cousin and his friend would return triumphant.

He had just sat down for the evening meal with his children and Jeyne when a knock sounded at the door and a guard entered. "My lord," the man said with a bow, "your son and his companion have returned."

There was a moment of shocked silence, then Bran and Arya rushed for the door, with Ned following not far behind. They burst out of the hall and into the corridor which led to the small courtyard at the front of Ser Wilbert's small estate. Sure enough, Jon and Tenten were handing the reins of their horses to the grooms, with both Ghost and Nymeria dancing excitedly at their heels.

"You're back," his daughter shrieked as she ran forward and embraced first Jon, then Tenten.

"Did you win?" Bran asked excitedly as he, too, hugged Jon.

"The siege is broken. Riverrun is free," Jon proudly announced, eliciting a cheer from the assembled men.

* * *

As the wagon moved much slower than men on horseback, the journey back to Riverrun took well over a week. And when they finally reached their destination, they were surprised to discover that several thousand more people had arrived during their absence.

It was with tears in their eyes that Ned and his children ran forward to embrace Catelyn and Robb. At last, their long trial was over. His children could return home to safety.

But amidst this time of joy, Ned knew that there was still a storm on the horizon. The battle at Riverrun had been won, but the war was far from over.

* * *

A/N – A few changes from canon here. Kevan is the one in charge of the siege since Jaime was in King's Landing. Kevan is much more cautious, so he doesn't cut through the Riverland force under Edmure as quickly, which gives Edmure time to finish gathering the supplies into Riverrun and then retreat in reasonably good order, which means that Riverrun has more soldiers they can sortie out with once the Western forces start infighting. Edmure still lost a large number of men, but not the complete disaster it was in canon. And since Riverrun was able to free itself (very few people know the full extent of Jon and Tenten's involvement) Edmure's rep with the Riverlords is a lot higher.

And poor Robb is stuck marrying a Frey for no reason at all :(

Also, as some readers may have surmised, the kid Tenten noticed was Pod. And yes, he is now dead. RIP.


	14. Different Ninja Omakes

Different Ninja Omakes

Sorry everybody, this isn't a new chapter, though I should have one ready next week. I've been thinking about how other characters from Naruto could fit into ASOIAF and came up with some ideas that I think are kind of amusing, so I figured I'd type them up and share them. Let me know what you think!

* * *

Cherry Blossoms in Winter

Ned frowned as he watched his daughter talking with her new friend. Not that he had any problem with his daughter befriending the foreign woman. In fact, he was, to an extent, hoping that it would happen.

It's just that, well, if anything, he would have expected that a young woman trained as a warrior in a city of sellswords – a young woman skilled enough to become the apprentice of the leader of the city, at that – would get along better with Arya, not Sansa.

"My Sasuke-kun is so brave and heroic! He needed to get better training so that he could defeat his traitorous brother and avenge his family, so he risked his life and his very soul to track down one of the most infamous criminals in all of the Elemental Nations and force the fiend to teach him all his secrets!" the pink-haired girl gushed. "I wanted to go with him, but he cared too much about me to let me leave our home like that, but I know that he'll return to me some day."

"Oh, how romantic!" Sansa cooed. "That sounds like the sort of thing that my Golden Lion would do for me. He's such a brave prince, but a kind and caring one as well."

"My Golden Lion is so kind and caring," Arya muttered sarcastically under her breath, glaring at the pair as she walked a few paces behind them. She'd been ecstatic when she learned that they would have a female guard who was a trained warrior. The young girl sighed heavily. She should have known it was too good to be true.

(Ironically, after writing this, I realized that it could be possible for Sakura to make a huge difference in the war. If she was in King's Landing when Robert was hurt – assuming that he was wounded by a boar like in canon – she would likely have the skill to save his life, which means the Lannisters are facing a furious Robert Baratheon backed by the rest of Westeros.)

* * *

The Right Tool for the Job

The Twins truly were a dank and depressing place, Catelyn realized. Though they had come for a wedding, it seemed as though the atmosphere was more fitting for a funeral. Still, she put on her best face. They needed this alliance to be successful. The Frey's bridge was essential for her son's kingdom.

At this thought, she glanced over at Robb, standing tall and proud, his crown gleaming in the dim candlelight. No mother could be more proud of her son than Catelyn was of Robb.

A frown stole across her face as Robb moved, and she saw who was standing behind him. Not that she had expected any different. The attractive young woman had been found wandering in the forest not far from Winterfell, starving and cold. Her son, ever generous, had welcomed her into the castle, treating her as an honored guest, and the young woman had sworn to serve him. His tool, she had called herself.

Catelyn had no idea why the foreign woman thought Robb, the son of the most important lord in the North, would need yet another servant. When she had first heard the story, she was convinced that the girl was trying to worm her way into Robb's bed, but, to her surprise, the foreigner had never acted inappropriately - at least, not to Catelyn's knowledge. The strange woman had followed Robb all through his campaign in the Riverlands and in the west, aiding and supporting him in any way she could. So while it was certainly odd, there was no harm done, so far as Catelyn could see.

Soon the wedding was over, and Edmure had been sent out with his new bride in accordance with the bedding tradition. It was then that Catelyn began to feel a growing sense of unease. Something was very wrong.

Her blood turned to ice as the musicians began to play that infamous tribute to Lannister cruelty, and she looked over to see Walder Frey grinning maliciously.

Some of the musicians dropped their instruments and took up crossbows instead. All around them, the Freys drew their swords. The Northern warriors, surrounded and unarmed, would be cut down, she knew. And there was nothing anyone could do to stop it.

The crossbowmen were aiming at her son and his guards, but before the bolts could fly, a wall of solid ice materialized in front of them. Shouts of surprise and fear filled the hall as more ice appeared, separating the Freys from their intended victims.

"You would dare break the sacred traditions of your fathers and betray your king?" Haku hissed furiously. Long shards of ice appeared in her hands, and she fixed Walder Frey with a furious stare, causing the cowardly old man to shrink back in his grimy chair. Her arms seemed to blur, and all around the room, the Freys fell to the ground, ice needles sticking out of them like pincushions.

"If you want to kill Robb-sama, you'll have to go through me first," the beautiful yet deadly foreigner vowed, her voice soft, but there was no doubt that everyone in the room heard it.

The few Freys still standing looked at each other in horror, their fear palpable, and Catelyn couldn't help but smile. This wasn't such a bad wedding after all.

* * *

Super Perverts Unite!

Ned sighed as he looked around the chamber at the other members of Robert's Small Council. He hadn't been aware that the descriptor 'small' was such an appropriate one. Besides himself, there were only two other people in the room – Robert's brother Renly, and Ser Barristan Selmy.

"Where are the others?" he inquired. He had heard that Stannis Baratheon, the Master of Ships, was on Dragonstone, but that still left the Grandmaester and the Masters of Coin and Whispers unaccounted for.

"Well, Robert never comes," Renly replied, "and Baelish was arrested on my authority as Master of Laws after Robert's new Master of Whispers approached me with evidence that he was the one who poisoned Jon Arryn. One of your first duties as Hand will be to organize the trial. And appoint a new Master of Coin, I suppose."

"New Master of Whispers?" Ned echoed, surprised. "What of Varys? Is he not the spymaster?"

"No, he was executed some time ago when it was discovered that he had been supporting the fugitive Targaryens."

Robert hadn't mentioned that. Ned wondered what else his old friend had neglected to tell him.

Renly, it seemed, hadn't finished with his report. "Pycelle was also arrested for treason in that he was reporting on Robert to Tywin Lannister, and we suspect he was complicit in Jon's death."

One shock after another. "And this new spymaster, where is he?" Ned finally inquired.

Renly and Ser Barristan shared a glance that did not fill the Stark Lord with confidence.

"He is likely with the King," Ser Barristan finally said.

"If he is assisting Robert with some matter, should we not aid them as well?" Ned asked.

"It is not likely that the King or his new spymaster require any assistance from us," the aged knight replied quickly.

"Where are they?" At this question, Ned found himself wondering at the awkward smiles of the other two. And why did he suddenly remember how enthused Robert had been up in Winterfell when he told Ned of how women in the south often swam naked to escape the heat?

"Hee hee hee, some real beauties here," Jiraiya giggled as he watched a pair of women bathing in a small cove not far from the walls of the Red Keep. "Perfect inspiration!"

"Now this is the sort of Master of Whispers a king really needs – someone to find all the best places to watch beautiful women," Robert whispered enthusiastically as more women appeared and began removing their clothes. "Oh ho, look at the tits on that one!"

The white-haired shinobi didn't know how he'd arrived in this strange land, but never let it be said that the Gallant Jiraiya was unable to adapt to any circumstance. He'd earned the gratitude of the king, and while these people didn't have printing presses yet, that wouldn't stop him from working on his latest masterpiece: Icha Icha Westeros!

* * *

It's Good to be the King

Arya stared, tears running down her face as her father stood in front of the jeering crowd, confessing his supposed 'crimes'. "You have to help him," she pleaded desperately to the blonde kunoichi beside her.

"Not a problem," the older girl replied smugly. "Just keep an eye on my body for me."

Arya frowned. _What does that mean?_ She watched curiously as Ino raised her hands, pressing together her thumbs and the first two fingers on each hand to form a rough circle as she focused on Joffrey. The foreigner whispered something in her native language, then slumped against the statue, seemingly unconscious. Only the earlier hint that this was somehow normal kept Arya from panicking even more than she already was.

Ned resisted the urge to curse as the blond bastard stepped forward and raised his hands. How he wanted to tell the world the truth about the loathsome Lannister spawn. But Sansa's life was at stake, so Ned was powerless.

The crowd fell silent as Joffrey began to speak. "Lord Stark has confessed to a great many crimes today. But first, we must ask ourselves why he would do such a thing," the supposed king shouted, leading to confused glances from the queen and several others on the steps of the great sept. "It is known far and wide that Lord Stark is the most honorable lord in the Seven Kingdoms. Further, he is a lord of the North, who does not concern himself with southern titles or positions." He paused for a moment, looking over at Ned once more, then back at the crowd. "It is obvious that Lord Stark did not, in fact, commit the crimes that he confessed to today. Then, why would he lie? The answer is clear."

Ned was as startled as anyone. He had been promised that if he confessed, he would be permitted to take the black. Joffrey, however, did not seem to be following that plan. Instead, the young Lannister took a few steps to the side and gestured to Sansa. "His beloved daughter is being held by those he does not trust. Doubtless he fears that should he speak the truth, she would be harmed."

Once more Joffrey paused. "All kingsguard, come to me!" he commanded. Confusion reined for a moment until finally the white-cloaked men assembled a few steps behind the young king.

"As members of the kingsguard, you are sworn to protect whom I tell you to protect. And I now give you a solemn charge. No matter what Lord Stark says here today, you are to protect the Lady Sansa above all else, even if it means traveling to Winterfell to personally see her returned to her family. Is that understood?"

The knights as glanced at each nervously, before one finally responded. "Yes, we understand, your grace," the man said, though it was clear he was still confused.

"Excellent," the boy replied, before turning back to Ned. "So, Lord Stark, given that your daughter is now safe, please tell us the truth of your actions, and your reasons. I remember you speaking to your daughter in the godswood at Winterfell after she threw mud at her sister. You told her that a person must always be willing to be held accountable for their actions. Now, I beg you, tell us the truth."

Ned's mind whirled. That event had occurred before the royal party had even arrived. The only one who had been there besides he and Arya had been… A swell of hope filled his heart. _Ino. The only other one was Ino, who has already demonstrated incredible abilities. Could she somehow be controlling Joffrey? To what end?_ It was a risk, but he would have to put his trust in the foreign woman and hope that she knew what she was doing.

"My previous confession was, indeed, false," he said in a loud voice. "I was told that Sansa would be harmed or killed if I did not lie. The truth is, I discovered that the Queen, Cersei Lannister, had been unfaithful to King Robert."

"Guards!" Joffrey roared, and Ned's heart sunk as several surprised goldcloaks stepped forward. Fortunately, his despair did not last long. "Arrest my mother!" the pretender king finished, pointing dramatically at the wide-eyed woman.

Ned glanced over and, despite the grave situation, almost burst out laughing at the look on Cersei's face. She tried to say something, but Joffrey did not give her any chance. "Lord Stark, please, continue your report."

Now with more confidence, Ned continued. "I had been investigating the death of the previous Hand, Jon Arryn, and I learned that he had discovered that the Queen had broken her vow of fidelity. When I confronted her, she confessed that she had lain with her brother, and that my son Bran discovered them in the act while in Winterfell, so Jaime threw him from the tower, nearly killing him."

The crowd listened spellbound. Cersei tried to say something but one of the guards muffled her at a gesture from Joffrey.

"When King Robert returned from hunt badly wounded, he appointed me regent and Lord Protector of the Realm until the rightful heir was ready to take the throne." Ned took a deep breath. _This is it._ "Cersei Lannister admitted that all of her children are not King Robert's children. Rather, their father is the Kingslayer, Jaime Lannister. Robert Baratheon had no legitimate children, and so, the throne belongs to the elder of his two brothers, Lord Stannis Baratheon."

"Grandmaester Pycelle," Joffrey shouted. The man scurried forward, too confused to maintain his charade of a dotty old fool. "Send a raven to Stannis Baratheon at once, advising him that he should come to King's Landing to claim his throne."

Cersei once more tried to say something.

"Gag her," Joffrey ordered, and the goldcloaks around her hesitantly obeyed. Exclamations of shock filled the plaza, but, to Ned's relief, it seemed everyone else was too confused to object, including Varys, the High Septon, and other members of the court gathered on the stairs of the sept.

"Lord Stark, if you were acting in accordance with the orders of King Robert, how then did you come to be imprisoned?" Joffrey inquired.

"Cersei destroyed the king's decree, then I was betrayed by Petyr Baelish," Ned replied bitterly. "My men were killed by those they thought were their allies, and I have been imprisoned ever since."

"Find Baelish and bring him here! He will face justice for this treachery!" Joffrey shouted to the crowd, gesturing emphatically. A few people gathered in the plaza gave a half-hearted cheer, but most looked confusedly at each other.

"Clearly, Lord Stark is innocent of those crimes to which he was previously forced to confess," the Lannister bastard declared. "He is, by decree of King Robert Baratheon, the Lord Protector of the Realm until such time as Stannis Baratheon is prepared to take up his crown. Cersei Lannister will be held in the Black Cells until King Stannis is ready to pass judgment upon her. Jaime Lannister is to be arrested and imprisoned as well."

Cersei made a noise that was presumably a protest, but, due to the gag, it sounded more like she was choking.

"As Lord Stark has clearly stated, I am a bastard born of incest, and therefore have no claim on the throne. I cannot speak for my younger siblings, but I feel there is only one course in life for me. I understand that there is a recruiter for the Night's Watch here?"

Yoren stepped forward. "Yes, your… uh…"

"Just call me Joffrey," the boy replied happily as he put a hand on the man's shoulder. "After all, I will be joining your order, and we shall be brothers."

More choking from Cersei.

Soon, Ned was freed, and the guards were sent out to find and arrest both Petyr Baelish and Janos Slynt. Cersei had been taken away, while the High Septon had quickly vanished into the sept. Varys, surprisingly, remained where he was, seemingly unaffected by the chaos.

Ned frowned briefly as Joffrey approached him. "I made a few changes in here while I was at it, but they won't last long. Joffrey will be back to his charming self in a few days. Best make sure Yoren takes him straight to the Wall as soon as possible," the boy whispered with a wink, then his face went slack as he blinked a few times, looking around uncertainly as though wondering how he got there.

As she sat up, Ino couldn't help but smile at the amazed look at Arya's face.

"That was incredible!" the girl exclaimed.

"What can I say?" the grinning kunoichi replied with fake modesty. "There's a reason the Yamanaka Clan is the best in Konoha."

* * *

Shadow of the Islands

Aeron Damphair looked around the hill where the captains were gathered, and almost cursed. Euron was a monster, but he was a cunning monster, and he had managed to ensnare most of the men gathered at the Kingsmoot. Aeron's niece had made a good showing, but it hadn't been enough.

Though the captains had made their decision clear, he knew his brother would lead them to ruin, so Aeron was already plotting how to end Euron's rule before it even began. _Perhaps Victarion could be persuaded to aid me._ He just wished there were another way.

At the exact moment this thought passed through his mind, he spied a beautiful woman walking calmly up to where Euron stood. From a distance, her auburn hair made her look like a Tully, but no Tully could move with such deadly grace. The woman smirked she gazed at the pile of treasures Euron had presented to the captains, then glanced at the large horn, scoffing dismissively.

"I am Mei Terumi, chosen by the Drowned God to lead these islands, and his people," she loudly declared as she turned her attention back to the captains gathered on the sacred hill.

Whispers could be heard, and it was all Aeron could do not to attack this woman for her blasphemy. _Claiming to be chosen by the Drowned God. Heresy!_

"I don't know about the Drowned God, but any time you want to feel a real man between your legs, I'll choose you!" Someone shouted.

Rather than getting angry, the newcomer just smiled. Her hands moved, fingers forming strange patterns, then all noise from the gathered crowd ceased as a mass of water shot out of the ocean and flew through the air. Swirling like a maelstrom, it crashed down on the stony ground behind the captains. Everyone turned to see that the ground where the vortex had impacted had not only been scoured clean, but the rock itself had been worn away as though it were mere sand.

"Does anyone doubt me now?" she asked, her voice sweet and innocent.

It took a moment for people to recover from the demonstration of her power. _Chosen by the Drowned God indeed_, Aeron thought.

"An impressive feat, but do you really think you could defeat a dragon?" one of the captains finally asked, his voice a curious mixture of anger and hope.

The woman laughed. "We have only Euron's word that the horn works as he says. I offer far greater proof of my claims." She shook her head dismissively. "When the Crow's Eye has finally succeeded in capturing a dragon, then he can press his claim to the throne. But as for me…" She trailed off, then puffed out her cheeks and exhaled sharply. Cries of shock came from all around as a massive ball of fire flew out of her mouth. "I think I'm enough of a dragon on my own."

The captains all cheered, shouting her name triumphantly.

Like the others, Euron had stared, visibly amazed and perhaps even a little cowed, but his astonishment was short lived. "Impressive," he remarked as he approached her slowly, his voice surprisingly calm. "A strong woman with such power is a beautiful thing to behold. But every queen needs a consort," he added smoothly. "Might I ask that you consider me for that position?" By now, he was standing right in front of her, and he reached out, gently stroking her hair, the curls of which covered one of her green eyes.

Desperate to prevent even the chance of Euron gaining power, Aeron spoke quickly. "The last Queen of the Isles had a large number of very elegant dresses made. They're a bit old, and might be somewhat wrinkly by now, but I'm sure with those dresses a woman such as you could attract the eye of any man she wanted," Aeron said respectfully.

The new queen's face contorted angrily. "Aeron, shut up or I'll kill you!"

Baffled, Aeron stared as the furious woman stormed off. How could she take offence at such a courteous statement?He sighed. Maybe Euron would have been the better choice.

(For anyone who's not as familiar with Naruto, there's a bit of a running joke that Mei frequently mishears when her adviser Ao speaks, and thinks that he is insinuating that she is undesirable for marriage because she is old, to which she responds by telling him to shut up or she'll kill him. Just imagine that she thought Aeron said "you're" instead of "they're" when talking about the dresses.)

* * *

If any readers want to write an omake like the ones above, send them to me in a review or PM, and I'll include them at the end of the next chapter. When I've finished the story, I'll move this chapter to the end of the story and include the omakes written by readers.

Some other ideas I came up with:

Sasuke and the Martells bonding over the joys of getting revenge for murdered family members?

Gai and Lee meet Griff and Young Griff?

Nagato shows up with his six paths, and the Faith decides he must be an incarnation of the Seven?

Still haven't figured out where Kakashi or Naruto would fit in. If anyone has any ideas, let me know.


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